Dehumanization
by badculture
Summary: Anna's sense of self may have been compromised by her experiences in the Asgard Human Ranch, but her old nickname, Lady Luck, might still hold some truth. A stranger, struggling with his own humanity, appears with one last chance for both of them. Kranna
1. Airborne

**Dehumanization**

"_When I learned of Mithos' plan to create an Age of Lifeless Beings, I turned against him and descended upon this land, where I met Anna." –Kratos Aurion_

Anna Irving felt unclean.

In reality, the opposite was true; her hair was still damp from being washed, and her body smelled of soap. Clothed in a freshly laundered shift, Anna was perhaps the most sanitary human being to ever set foot inside the Asgard Human Ranch. Compared to the other prisoners, her appearance was positively antiseptic. Even so, the the memory of cold water cascading down from above, and the sensation of invasive, dispassionate hands scrubbing at her body with rough cloth left her feeling far more disgusted with herself than she ever had in the past, back in days when her skin had been layered with sweat and grime from the prison yard.

Only a few months had passed since Anna had been selected for a special research project, confined to the inside of the facility while the others slaved away outside, sweating and bleeding for the construction of their own prison. Unlike them, she would never be worked to death, exploited by the guard, or otherwise injured or starved; she was under the protection of Grand Cardinal Kvar. After nearly a year of experimentation and study, he would never allow his most important test subject to be exposed to such contaminants – even for what he considered to be legitimate disciplinary purposes.

Anna was needed. This fact brought her more comfort than her conscience could condone.

Her escort kept a tight grip on her arm, tugging her this way and that as they made their way through the steel maze of the facility. His leather gloves felt The human woman already knew where she was supposed to go, but she bore his treatment without complaint. Their destination was a small laboratory, one of many scattered throughout the ranch. It was a harsh, sterile environment with a desk, chair and filing cabinet in one corner of the room, a counter and sink with locked cabinets in another, and a padded examination table in the middle, where her escort instructed her to wait.

"Yes, sir."

At long last, the Desian released her arm. Anna felt his black leather glove peel away from her skin, but the sensation would linger for a long time afterwards. Trying to will her racing heartbeat to be steady, Anna moved to the padded examination table and sat down. She refused to look at the cloth restraints on either side of the bed frame.

Anna took a deep breath and closed her eyes. _One… three… eight… nine… thirteen… _

The Desian lingered in the doorway for a few moments longer than usual. Although his eyes were invisible behind his visor, Anna could sense the way that his attention swept the room, almost as if he were searching for something. After a few moments, he shook his head, and then he left, sealing the entrance behind him.

Anna folded her hands in her lap. There was nothing to do now but wait. She had explored this laboratory before, hoping that something she could use – a scalpel, a heavy microscope, anything – would be left out in the open where she could get at it, but since then she had given up on the idea of finding anything.

"Are you part of the Angelus Project?"

Anna jumped, rattling the examination table underneath her. She had been certain that she was alone.

The speaker turned out to be a tall, male stranger, and when she turned, she found that he was standing just behind her with a stack of file folders under one arm. Anna was sure that she had never seen him before, for he was exceptionally striking in his appearance. His hair, a brilliant, scarlet red colour, contrasted sharply with his serious expression and dreary, dark clothing. Anna could see a canteen and a somewhat tattered pouch at his waist, so it was obvious that he had come from outside. He bristled with weaponry as well, with a sword on his belt, a shield on his arm, and the hilt of a knife peeking out from the upper of his boot.

Most prominent of all was the exsphere mounted on the back of his hand, marking him as a Desian soldier.

"Yes," Anna responded, once she had recovered her voice. What she really wanted to say was, _"Who are you?"_, _"Where did you come from?"_ and _"Were you just hiding behind that desk?" _but she kept her questions to herself.

"Come with me," he ordered, moving past her the laboratory door. He didn't watch to see if she followed.

Anna could tell that this man was someone important. Both his voice and his mannerisms seemed assured and authoritative; it was obvious that he was accustomed to being obeyed. Even so, she hesitated. Her escort had ordered her to stay put. Those orders had been handed down from Grand Cardinal Kvar, himself.

"I was told to stay here," she said. It came out as a question.

"Plans have changed," the man answered, without turning.

That was that, then. There was no point in worrying about what Kvar would think; Anna knew better than to rely on the Grand Cardinal's protection. She had once attempted to convince a new recruit of her importance as a research subject, and she had been rewarded with a black eye and a broken wrist.

Coming up alongside him, Anna could see that the stranger was glaring at the door, as if he expected it to yield to intimidation. She knew from experience that it locked from the outside, and he did not seem to possess one of the key cards that Kvar and other important members of the Desians used to bypass the ranch's security systems. He was as trapped as she was.

He turned to her, undeterred.

"Step back – no, wait – take these with you," he said, handing Anna the stack of file folders he had been carrying. "And then I would advise that you take cover."

Anna didn't know what his intentions were, but there was an urgent quality to his voice. Moving quickly to obey, she ducked behind the desk on the other side of the room.

When nothing happened for a long moment, she looked down at the files in her arms. Each one was marked with the label "A012".

She checked to see if the man was watching her, but he was out of her sight.

Anna opened the file at the top of the file as silently as she could. On the first page there was a glossy image of her, from the neck up, and underneath that there were a few, notes written in small, uniform handwriting. Only her first name had been printed down, and she noticed that her birth date was just over a month off. She wondered how Kvar had determined her age in the first place. The Desians had never asked her questions, of course. To them, the word of a human was as good as useless.

Anna scanned down the page, pausing when she reached one of the passages at the bottom.

_Projected duration of parasitic process: 46 months, minimum.* _

_*With consistent exposure to high levels of physical and mental stress, the Angelus project is expected to mature at an accelerated rate, equal to that of a standard subject. To increase the scope of current data, it is advisable that measures be taken to extend the parasitic process and preserve the sample. _

Her hand instinctively moved to the centre of her collarbone, where a smooth, dark stone had been lodged in her skin.

"Ready?" she heard the man say, from somewhere on the other side of her makeshift hiding place. Anna hastily snapped the folder shut, half-expecting him to appear at her side at any moment. But he remained in the same place, and a moment later she heard him speak again.

"Eruption!"

Anna heard an explosive roar of flames, and the floor shook beneath her feet and the palms of her hands. Her breath caught. She had known, of course, that the Desian militia was composed mainly of half-elves, but she had only seen true magic – raw, unfettered by machinery – used once before. The smell of heated steel was thick in the air. It made Anna's chest feel tight, and she suddenly became very conscious of her breathing. She closed her eyes, and forced herself to inhale slowly and deeply.

_One, three, eight- _

"Get up," said the man, interrupting the young woman in the midst of her internal mantra.

Anna looked up at him from her position on the floor. The warrior was leaning over her with an expectant expression, one hand extended towards her, palm open. For a moment, she was confused by the gesture. She almost reached out to him. Then she remembered the files she was holding and quickly handed them over. The red-haired man accepted them from her and moved back, allowing her enough room to stand on her own.

"Follow me," he instructed.

Anna could only comply.

The laboratory door had been completely decimated by the man's spell, along with a great deal of the surrounding wall. Stepping through its twisted metal remains, Anna wondered who she was taking orders from, and if he was truly a Desian, as she had first assumed. Listening to the researchers during her appointments, Anna had come to understand that there was some sort of rebel faction causing trouble for her captors. If he was one of them, it might explain how he had obtained an exsphere.

At one time, hearing about the so-called 'renegade' Desians had restored Anna's sense of hope. How remarkable would it be, if there was a group of noble half-elves in the world, ready and willing to fight alongside the humans. It wasn't long before that idea was dashed. According to rumor, the so-called rebels were attacking human settlements with almost as much vengeance as the Desians themselves. Now, at the thought that she might be less than an arm's length away from one, she wondered if following this man might be worse than running back to Kvar.

If this man managed to escape the facility without getting her killed in the process, it was likely that his first act would be to hand her over to the Renegades. Her physical condition being what it was, she didn't feel at all confident that she would be able to get away from him before that happened.

In the end, Anna decided not to turn back. At least, this way, there was a chance that Kvar's own research would be turned against him. Poetic justice.

The passageway was suddenly filled with the wail of... some foreign sound, high pitched and loud. Anna's hands flew to her ears.

"What is that?"

"Alarms." The stranger was clearly unperturbed. "I was wondering how long it would take. We need to move quickly."

He began to pick up the pace, trotting ahead.

"Wait," said Anna, forced to raise her voice to be heard above the blaring sirens.

The red haired man paused and looked back at her. He seemed irritated.

"Th-the stairs to the ground floor are the other way," she told him, gesturing towards an intersection in the corridor, "I know how to reach the entrance."

It had been nearly a year, but Anna could still remember the route she had been taken when she had first been brought inside the ranch's high-security area. Even though the hallways were nearly indistinguishable from one another, the young woman had been able to keep track of where she was by reading the numbers on the facility doors. She had taken note of the ones where she had been forced to turn, and then she had memorized them as a sequence.

"Going that way would be pointless," he told her shortly.

The man made no move to change direction, and Anna began to think that she'd made a mistake. Maybe he was a Desian after all, maybe he had never intended to take her out of the facility.

"The entrance is bound to be under heavy guard. You would be ill-advised to choose that direction. Trust me, Anna."

Anna couldn't help the incredulous expression that crossed her face. This, coming from someone who knew her name without being told, but had yet to share his own. She attempted to school her expression, but the man wasn't fooled.

As if he could some how sense the cause of her indignation, he spoke again, in a soft tone that didn't suit him.

"Kratos Aurion," he offered.

Then, without another word, he turned and strode down the passage ahead of her.

_One, three, eight, nine, thirteen._ Those numbers, reversed, would take Anna straight to the prison yard. Even if she didn't make it to the front gate, she couldn't help but think longingly of the sun on her face, the smell of fresh air. She could go, if she wanted to. It didn't look like this "Kratos Aurion" was going to force her to stay with him.

But there was no chance of escape that way. Not really. She didn't know what her odds were of escaping from Kratos, but the unknown was certainly better than nothing.

Anna gave the other passage one last, long look before scurrying to catch up with the stranger. Maybe she would regret passing up a chance to feel the sun on her face, but it was too late for that now.

By the time Anna spotted the two Desians ahead, a whip master and a swordsman, they were already dead.

Kratos felled the first with a sweep of his sword before the unfortunate half-elf had even bared his whip, and the second only managed to parry once before Kratos had disarmed him with a fluid twist of his wrist, mercilessly plunging his weapon through the soldier's gut. Quick and efficient.

Anna eyed the fallen swordsman's weapon, and then sought out Kratos, wondering how he would react to her if she picked it up.

"Don't bother, it will get in the way," he told her, without being asked. Then he gestured towards an enormous set of steel double doors, "this is the hangar."

Anna - to her great shame - obeyed the man's directive without question. She had grown too used to being a prisoner, it seemed.

The room was enormous, and the ceiling reached three times as high as it had out in the hallway. Anna had been expecting to find a dead end, but on the opposite side there was a long round tunnel with a metal walkway running down the centre of it. Anna's breath caught at the sight of blue sky, waiting at the end.

Part of her longed to run towards the exit, but something gave her pause; a bizarre contraption that appeared to be levitating in the centre of the hangar. It reminded Anna of a winged sea hog, with immense, sweeping fins on either side of it and a curved tail emerging from the back. Where the she imagined the creature's feelers would be there was instead a pair of handlebars, set in front of a cushioned seat. The underside of it – or the belly – appeared to be a hollow cylinder with some sort of propeller inside. Despite her eagerness to explore the tunnel ahead, Anna couldn't seem to stop herself from moving in for a closer look.

"What…" Anna began, but then she trailed off when she noticed that Kratos was facing away from her. His eyes were fixed on a set of viewing screens mounted on the wall, all of which displayed characters that Anna didn't recognize.

"That is a Rheaird," Kratos told her. She was surprised that he had been able to hear her over the sirens in the hall. "More specifically, you are looking at a turbine engine. It propels the machine forward."

"You mean… this is a flying machine?!"

"Indeed. Kvar's personal vehicle, I would assume. It's an older model, but everything seems to be in order,"

Kratos moved to join her, and mounted the Rheaird with sure steps, gesturing for her to climb up behind him.

Anna had her doubts. She had been working in the prison yard for months before she had been removed for experimentation purposes, but she had never seen any flying machines depart from the ranch. It didn't seem like the sort of thing that she would miss. There was nothing for it though, so she clambered up behind him and sat down, leaving some space between herself and the self-appointed pilot.

Kratos busied himself with prying open a metal panel located underneath the seat, and then proceeded to stuff the files he had been carrying inside the compartment for safekeeping. Once he had forced the panel closed again, he twisted around to face Anna.

"Alright. Hold on."

Anna didn't move, misunderstanding Kratos' instructions. Growing impatient, reached around behind him to grip her wrist, hauling her forward to fasten her arm around his waist.

"I mean it," he said firmly, "I need both hands to steer. If you fall I won't be able to help you."

Anna was loathe allowing Kratos to trespass on her personal space, but lacked the courage to refuse. Back rigid, she scooted forward on the seat and wrapped her other arm about his middle. The man's heavy cape relieved most of the awkwardness of their proximity, but she couldn't help but feel uncomfortably aware of his warmth under her hands, radiating through the thin material of his shirt. With her face close enough to bury in the crook of his neck, she could smell his hair, his clothes, and his skin. He carried the scent the world outdoors, of cedar trees, smoke from wood fires. And there was the barest hint of something else, sharp and clean, like shaving soap.

It was uncomfortable. Anna felt the physical symptoms of anxiety threatening to overtake her, and deliberately slowed her breathing, turning her head to the side to avoid puffing air in Kratos's ear. If he noticed her reaction, he focused instead on manipulating the Rheaird's controls. He adjusted the angle of the machine's wings slightly, centering them.

The doors behind them hissed open.

"There they are!"

In her peripheral vision, Anna could see Desian soldiers piling into the room, weapons bared. One aimed his weapon at her, but another put a hand out to stop him.

"Don't! If anything happens to the Angelus project-

Anything else the soldier had to say was drowned as the engine under Anna's seat fired up with a roar, and, with no further warning, the Rheaird surged forward. Anna shrieked, caught off guard in spite of everything. Abandoning all pretence of modesty, she crushed herself against Kratos' body, clutching at him for dear life as the vehicle rocketed down the tunnel. They burst into the sky, and for one dizzying moment, Anna looked down, and saw the prison yard beneath them.

Below, prisoners and guards alike craned their necks to stare up at her in amazement. Vaguely, it occurred to Anna that she should feel guilty for leaving them behind, but as the Rheaird sailed over the compound fence, her heart swelled with exuberance.

_I made it out_ _alive,_ she realized. No one had ever done such a thing.

Kratos leaned back into her, pulling the handlebars down gently. The Rheaird began to gain altitude, climbing through the sky in a smooth, languid arch. Shifting in order to get a better view of the ground, Anna saw that they were now flying above the woods that surrounded the Desian compound. When she glanced back, the Human Ranch already seemed distant and far away.

The climb made her feel nauseous at first. Anna felt a sharp pain in her ears, too, but it faded quickly. Growing more confident, the young woman eased her grip on the pilot, freeing one of her hands to rub at her eyes. They were wet with tears, shed in reaction to the sting of the wind.

She could sense Kratos' tension flowing away as well, as his shoulders drooped slightly and the muscles of his stomach relaxed under her other palm. Intellectually, Anna was still suspicious of the man – doubly so after he had demonstrated no interest in helping any of the other prisoners – but a less rational part of her mind wanted to press close to him again, and fully enjoy the warmth and comfort of simple, human contact. It was cold so high up in the sky.

A sudden, loud noise, like a thunderclap, rumbled behind them, and Kratos swore. The Rheaird swerved sharply. Anna felt herself slipping and tried to regain her hold on Kratos, but before she could a bright, white streak of light ripped through the air to collide with one of the Rheaird's wings, shredding it like parchment. There was a deafening explosion, and the whole craft jerked violently. If not for Kratos, who had somehow managed to turn in his seat and grip onto her in the confusion, Anna certainly would have been thrown clear of the vehicle. He had snared her in some sort of frantic bear hug, pinning both of her arms to her sides. His shoulder dug painfully into her neck, compromising her ability to breath and redoubling Anna's sense of panic by consequence. He was lifting her now, pulling her off of the seat, and Anna was suddenly sure that he was going to make her fall overboard, the same way a drowning man would pull anyone nearby down with him.

Anna struggled against his grip, letting out a strangled shriek of protest. Over his shoulder, she caught sight of something white, like a scrap of metal, flash in the sunlight. Coming closer. It struck her across the forehead, and then all she knew was a burst of pain.

The howling wind faded into silence. The last thing Anna would remembered was falling, and Kratos's arms around her, unwelcome and suffocating.


	2. Grounded

**Dehumanization**

_Dressed in her best pink smock,__ a five year old Anna Irving followed close behind her mother, holding tightly to her brand new basket. It was her turn to help with errands, but she didn't really mind, today. Her mother had promised to buy her a new pair of red ribbons to put in her hair, on the condition that she stayed on her best behaviour the whole time. _

_In the summer sun, t__he cobblestones street was warm under Anna's feet, but a cool breeze rising off of the water made the air comfortably mild. It was market day in Luin, and for the traders who had gathered in the town's main square, such fair weather indicated an auspicious day for doing business. Even early in the morning, the town square was already crowded with people. _

_Obediently shadowing her mother, Anna passed by a group of boys her own age.__ They were all mucking around on the beach, flinging wads of wet sand at each other in the slated shade of the city's western pier. Anna did not envy them. Helping her mother made her feel too grown-up for such silly games. One of her hands unconsciously strayed to her skirt, and pulled at it, lifting the hem further from the ground. The idea of ruining her smock – namely, the thought of how disappointed her mother would be – made her very nervous. _

_The__ir first stop was the fruit stand; Anna's favourite place to go shopping. The merchant there, a middle-aged woman named Mrs. Alveas, often rewarded children who showed good manners with candied nuts and other treats. Today, however, Anna could tell from a distance that the merchant woman was unwell. She wore a faraway expression, and a large, dark bruise had formed along her jaw line. _

'_She must have fallen down again_,_' thought Anna. It amazed her to think that an adult could be so clumsy. _

_It __was not at all uncommon for the kindly woman to be seen with bumps and scrapes. Once, when Anna had asked her about a mark on her elbow, Mrs. Alveas had explained that she was a bit more accident prone than most people. Although the little girl had never seen the woman trip or fall down, she hadn't found the woman's excuse at all unreasonable. She had heard many people comment on the woman's clumsiness in the past._

"_Oh, Mary!" Anna's mother exclaimed, catching sight of the other woman's face. "Not again!" _

"_I'm fine," Mrs. Alveas told her quickly. Anna's mother would hear nothing of it, and leaned over a crate of oranges so that she could speak to the other woman privately. _

"_Did Allen do this?" she asked, lowering her voice._

_Anna__ recognized the name of Mrs. Alveas' husband immediately. She had seen him from time to time in her father's barbershop, although she had never heard him speak. Her mother's words came as a surprise to her, because she had always thought that Mr. Alveas was very handsome, and she had imagined that someone as kind and friendly as Mrs. Alveas would be married to very nice man. This was the first time that she had heard anything to suggest that their relationship was less than perfect. She wondered if she had somehow misunderstood her mother's meaning. _

"_No, no," Mrs. Alveas tried to smile, but the strain in her expression was obvious, even to young Anna. "It's nothing like that. I just had a bit of a fainting spell last night and bumped my chin, that's all. Nothing to worry about! Now what can I get you, dear?" _

_Anna's mother sighed, but she relented and turned over her shopping list, leaving Mrs. Alveas to her work. The other woman sorted through her stock quickly, and once she had found everything, she also brought out a tiny, sugared plum to put in Anna's basket._

_"For you, little Lady," said Mrs. Alveas, her smile, gentle.  
_

_The little girl smiled and thanked her politely, but the willow basket seemed heavier with the tiny gift inside it. She wondered if her mother was right, and Mrs. Alveas' husband had been the one to hurt her. Anna never knew what to do when adults were unhappy. She thought of the boys she had seen on the beach, and suddenly wished she were with them, playing games in the shallows. _

_Having been raised in a happy family, Anna had always assumed that such arrangements were the natural order of things. Following her parents' example, Anna had always felt certain that she would someday get married and start a family of her own. Now she looked at Mrs. Alveas, and wondered what would happen if she made a mistake. What would she do if she ended up married to a bad man? _

_Even as Anna formed the question in her mind, the answer came to her, with the stark simplicity of any child's under__standing of adult behaviour. When you got married you had to promise the goddess Martel that you would stay together forever. If you didn't… well, Anna didn't really understand exactly what would happen. But the way that grown ups talked about it made her tummy feel bad. _

_Bidding the other woman a polite farewell, Anna's mother took her daughter's hand and led her away. Her actions were gentle, but Anna could tell that the encounter had left her in a foul mood._

"_I just don't understand it,"__ the woman muttered darkly. "Why doesn't she fight back? What is _wrong_ with that woman?"_

_Anna let go of her mother's hand to grasp the handle of her willow basket again. Her eyes dropped, and she found herself looking down at the tiny sugared plum that Mrs. Alveas had given her. It bounced around and rolled back and forth in the bottom of her basket as she walked. _

_Watching it, Anna felt suddenly ashamed. Like she'd done something bad.  
_

* * *

When Anna woke up, dappled sunlight warmed her face, and tickled her eyelids. It stung her eyes when she opened them, and made spots dance across her vision. After a great deal of blinking, she found herself gazing up at a canopy of green leaves and dark branches, and for a moment she believed that she was still in a dream. A dull, persistent ache, emanating from the centre of her skull, made short work of that theory.

The pain inside her head was accompanied by another, much sharper one on the outside, across her forehead, where Anna remembered she had been struck before. When she lifted her had to touch the wounded area, it came away sticky – but not with blood. Someone had coated the injury with translucent, rose coloured gelatine. It smelled sweet and fruity, like apples.

Outside. She was outside. The impossible realization was followed by a deluge of jumbled memories from the day before. The stranger. The Rheaird. _Falling._ The last memory was so vivid and frightening that it made Anna's heart pound, and she had to count her numbers to keep her breathing under control. She could not afford to breakdown out here.

Once her head was clear, she took stock of her surroundings. Whoever had tended her wounds had departed, and she felt no inclination to wait around for them to come back. From what Anna recalled of the crash before, she estimated that she was in the midst of Desian territory, and the chances that she had been aided by a well-meaning stranger were slim to none. It seemed most likely to her that one of Kvar's scouts had patched her up and had then gone to fetch someone to help carry her back to the ranch.

She wondered, briefly, where Kratos might have landed, but it was a fleeting thought. It had been clear from the start that the man had his own agenda, and Anna wanted no part of it.

Gathering up the ragged shreds of her courage, the young woman struggled to sit up, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea. There was something caught on her legs – a wool blanket of some description – so she pushed it away clambered to her feet.

Anna didn't realize that she had passed out until she was struggling to stand up a second time, pushing herself up to her knees on stinging palms and trembling arms. Her body was exhausted, and it retaliated against her efforts with another shuddering wave of pain and vertigo. Unable to push herself any further, Anna barely managed to crawl back to the blanket that she had just abandoned, collapsing there and pulling it tightly around herself. She felt like she was lying in the bottom of in a boat, as if the ground were tilting back and forth underneath her. Her body shivered uncontrollably. There was a loud hissing noise in her ears, like the sound of rushing steam, and a pressure that made her feel like there must be air rushing out of her head.

Cold, disoriented and miserable, Anna waited for the unpleasant sensations to pass, breathing heavily and shaking. That was how Kratos Aurion found her.

Anna saw him coming from a distance, weaving through the trees in a brusque, business-like manner. He had a set of manila file folders under his arms; the same ones Anna remembered from before. His cloak was missing, but otherwise he appeared unruffled. There was nothing about his appearance to suggest that he had recently fallen out of the sky, and Anna began to wonder if she had imagined the whole thing.

All of her instincts told her to run while she still had the chance, but Anna could barely find the energy to lift her head. Instead she lay quietly, curled up in a ball on her side, and watched him as he made his approach.

Kratos knelt down over her, set down his papers, and gently brushed the pads of his fingers over her forehead, careful to avoid the area that was smeared with apple gel. Anna recoiled instinctively, and closed her eyes against him, wishing that he would go away. Absurdly, part of her wished that she were still inside the Human Ranch. There, she knew where she stood. She knew exactly how far the prison guards would push her – could push her. But out here, when she was weak and helpless, there was nothing to prevent this man from taking advantage of her.

"Blood…?" she heard him murmur softly, more to himself than to her.

A warm hand closed over Anna's own, and she felt her fingers being pried open, exposing the palm of her hands. A heavy sigh issued from his mouth.

Anna opened one eye, to see what he was about, and realized that both of her hands had been injured in her fall. They were only shallow scrapes, but they were embedded with grit and soil from the forest floor.

Without a word, Kratos removed the canteen from his belt and swiftly uncapped it. Producing a scrap of cloth from the pouch at his waist, the man dampened it with the contents of his bottle, and then proceeded to dab at the young woman's wounds. Anna was too pained and too weary to think much of the superficial injuries on her hands, but she noticed how delicate his ministrations were. For now, it was safe to assume that he wouldn't hurt her without reason.

The man's face betrayed nothing. Kratos' expression held no tenderness that Anna could see; he only wore the look of intense concentration that he seemed to apply to everything he did. It was the same one that he had been on his face when he had cut through his enemies, and when he had piloted the Rheaird. Lips pressed together to form a flat line, eyebrows drawn down over his eyes, the young man's face seemed fixed in a permanent, solemn mask.

If Anna hadn't seen him do magic – if she hadn't known that he must be a half-elf – she probably could have liked the way he looked. He did not possess the delicate features or striking beauty of those who bore elfin blood, but there was something about him that – despite everything – appealed to her; something plain, solid and distinctly masculine. He looked human. He even had round ears.

Light-headed as she was, Anna almost found his presence reassuring, an anchor against the gentle, swaying motion of the forest floor below her. Almost – except that she still didn't know what he wanted from her. And she wasn't stupid enough to believe that the man had rescued her out of the goodness of his heart.

Apparently satisfied with his handiwork, Kratos tucked the cloth away, and released Anna's hands.

"Is there anything else?" he asked her, mildly.

"My head," she responded, without thinking, and then felt foolish. There was nothing he could do about a headache. Kratos only nodded.

"I know. I will attend to it once my body's mana has been fully replenished," he said. Then, surprising her, he asked, "Are you hungry?"

Anna's stomach was empty, but she shook her head. "I feel sick," she told him.

Kratos asked her a few more probing questions, nodding occasionally at something that she said. Anna had never really had a half-elf talk to her in such a way before. But the only half-elves she knew were Desians.

She was just starting to feel alright when the tears came, sudden and unexpected.

"What is it?" Kratos asked her suddenly, breaking off in the middle of one of his questions.

Anna couldn't find the breath to answer him. She was in the grip of something that seemed beyond her control, a powerful torrent of expression that seemed to stem from out of nowhere. It frightened her, but otherwise she felt numb, unable to comprehend her own body's sudden betrayal.

"I don't – don't know," she choked out finally, between desperate gasps for air. She'd been feeling fine. For the first time in over a year, she'd been feeling fine.

Instead of pressing her for answers, Kratos only nodded.

"I believe you received a concussion in the crash, earlier," the man revealed. "Involuntary emotional expression does occasionally emerge as a symptom. I imagine it will pass shortly. In any case, I will attend to your injury soon. Try to rest for now. In the meantime, I'll set up camp."

Anna sniffled in response, unsure of whether or not to take comfort in his words. To her, the word 'concussion' seemed vague and ominous – not because Anna was unfamiliar with it, but because she had heard it take on so many meanings in the past. She had never thought of a concussion as something that could be treated. It was common practice to take herbs to numb the pain, but it was merely a temporary solution. In her experience, the only thing to do was rest. Sometimes it worked, and sometimes…

Anna thought of Mrs. Alveas; the kind woman she remembered from her childhood, and also the one who had appeared in her dream. _She was never the same…. Why didn't she stand up for herself..?_ The memory of her mother's reproachful, pitying voice only made Anna feel like her tears were coming from somewhere real, so Anna did her best to shut it out.

Her internal struggle was forgotten, however, the moment that Kratos began to set up camp.

From Anna's perspective, it had seemed like a magician's trick. Facing away from her, Kratos had fumbled with the pouch at his waist and then, with a flourish of his wrist: _Voila! A handkerchief – but wait! There's more… and more… and more…_ Kratos was pulling material out from something in front of him, pulling it out hand over hand to pool on the ground by his boots, until it looked like he had enough to carpet the whole area. When he was finished there was more fumbling, and then a coil of rope appeared along with it, to be dropped on top of the rest of the pile.

She hadn't given it a second thought when he'd told her what he intended to do, but once she saw him at it, she realized how impossible the statement had been. Aside from a tiny pouch at his waist, Kratos had no visible means of carrying any supplies on him, and yet, somehow, in the time that Anna had been busy crying to herself, he had somehow managed to produce an enormous length of green-grey canvas, seemingly out of nowhere.

Anna blinked, her vision still blurred through her tears. It occurred to her then that Kratos's clothing was almost skin tight.

In the end, she thought it would be best to blame the whole thing on her concussion. It was all a hallucination, and the only rational thing to do was close her eyes and wait for it to go away. She pulled her blanket up over her head, unintentionally exposing her feet to the cold, and breathed in deeply.

_One, three, eight, nine, thirteen, _she told herself, although the numbers were meaningless now.

The wool over Anna's face carried the scent of trees and wood smoke. It was only then that Anna realized, through the haze of her headache and her fear, that the blanket covering her had been Kratos' cloak all along. She tried to forget him, and everything around her, but it was like being surrounded by him. The heavy wool cloak seemed to press down on her with the whole weight of its owner, a vivid reminder of the contact that they had shared on the Rheiard. Quiet sounds made Anna aware of his movements, and she was unable to avoid wondering what he was doing.

Anna's head still ached, and when at last she did get to sleep, the pain persisted through her dreams. She had strange, dizzy visions where she was spinning through the air, falling, and then Kratos was there, cradling her in his arms and carrying her through the sky. Something primal and single-minded took hold of her arms and legs, working it's way through her hands and fingers, and she seized upon him, clinging to his body like a vice, determined to live no matter what that meant, no matter where he took her.


	3. Anna Alone

**Dehumanization**

Anna woke up all at once, chilled to the bone and deeply terrified that something irreversible had been done to her in her sleep. True, her usual aches and pains were gone, but the numb coldness that had settled into her bones made her worry that Kvar had induced some new and potentially deadly change in her body. The young woman held no illusions about the way that the Desian Grand Cardinal's experiments would end; it was only a matter of time until she outlived her usefulness.

When Anna sat up, however, the top of her head met the gentle resistance of fabric, stretched taught and suspended above her. A canvas lean-to shelter had been mounted in the clearing, made from the same grey-green cloth that she had seen Kratos handling the day before. There was a camping mat on the ground, and the cloak had been replaced by something larger; a thick square of rough grey wool. It had a strong, heavy odour, like that of wet dog. Anna thought it might be a horse blanket.

Her headache was gone, so she could only assume that Kratos had made good on his promise to heal her. It was strange to think that he had used magic. She was not entirely comfortable with the idea of having her body altered by any unnatural means, and the fact that she had not actually witnessed him doing it only made her more uneasy.

When the escaped prisoner finally worked up the courage to venture outside of her tent, she discovered that - despite the strange man's well-traveled appearance - the campsite that he had thrown together was barely livable. He lacked even the most basic of necessities, and did not possess proper bedding or even basic cooking supplies.

Curiously enough, Kratos had somehow managed to produce a number of items which did not seem at all contusive to survival, such as a set of clean bath towels, a wash basin and a pair of leather-bound books, with characters from the Angelic language printed on the covers. Anna discovered these things inside of the lean-to shelter, resting next to her on the camping mat, where they would all stay relatively clean.

Kratos let her drink from his canteen, and then served her a breakfast of garlic sausages, skewered on a fell branch. He had no utensils, so Anna had to eat them with her hands.

"I apologize," he said, when he presented the odd meal, "I have not had the opportunity to restock my supplies in some time."

Anna was not about to complain. In point of fact, she had not expected him to be such a gracious host. After months of eating the same prison fare, day in and day out, just having real food to eat was nothing short of luxurious.

"It's fine. It's more than fine, I mean," she told him, and then, to fill the silence, she confided, "I used to think it was a good day when I got to eat potato peels on kitchen duty. They fed me a bit better after I was separated from the regular prisoners, though…"

Anna regretted her words immediately. They were a painful reminder of the prisoners who had been left behind in the Human Ranch, a thought that made her feel as though she were going to be physically sick. Kvar would be in a foul mood, with her gone. They probably weren't eating well at all.

Kratos was not looking at her, his eyes directed instead at the trees around them, but he let out a neutral, "Hmm," to let her know that he was paying attention. He did not press her to continue. He had Anna's files, so she supposed that there was no need to elaborate any further on matters concerning the ranch.

After a few moments of mentally groping for another topic of conversation, Anna remembered the skewer in her hand, and her half-eaten breakfast.

"I'm not really very hungry," she said. When Kratos failed to respond, she added, "Aren't _you_ going to eat anything?"

"That won't be necessary," he told her. Anna took this to mean that he had already eaten. "If you don't want them, just leave it for now. I'm sure Noishe will be hungry when he gets here."

"Noishe?"

"My… companion," he said. He seemed to decide on what to call him in mid-sentence, and Anna felt an involuntary twinge of suspicion. Kratos was hiding something. "He and I have arranged to meet in this area, so I plan to remain here until he returns."

"Isn't that dangerous?" Anna asked him. Surely, Kvar would be looking for them, and they had been in the same place for quite some time. Now that she thought about it, it seemed suicidal to have a campfire burning in the middle of the day. She was equally nervous about the idea of one of Kratos' friends joining them. It seemed safe to assume that "Noishe" was a half-elf as well.

"We've put the Human Ranch quite a ways behind us," Kratos assured her. At her doubtful look, he reminded her, "We flew a fair distance on the Rheaird."

"Not that far." Anna said, with mounting concern. "And what if they have more flying machines? It wouldn't take them long to catch up at all."

Kratos frowned, the first really emphatic expression that Anna had seen him make. It was obvious that he was not accustomed to being contradicted.

"I moved you away from the crash site, and the tree cover here is dense enough that they won't see anything from above," he said, and then in a much firmer tone he told her, "We are staying here."

Anna shut her mouth, and folded her hands in her lap. It was a meek position, one which she always adopted when she wanted to strike the person in front of her so badly that she did not entirely trust herself not to do so. As far as she could tell, Kratos' reasoning was remarkably faulty. He looked strong, but there was no way he could have carried her any significant distance from the crash site on foot.

The word 'we' had struck a nerve with her as well. _We are staying here._ The intent behind the words had been clear: _Do as I tell you, and stop asking questions._

All at once, Anna felt that she needed to get as far away from Kratos as possible.

"I need to pee," she announced, staking the clean end of her skewer in the ground and clambering to her feet.

Once she would have been embarrassed to say such a thing, but in the Human Ranch she had become accustomed to compromising her dignity for the sake of caution. It was usually safest to make sure that everyone knew what you were planning to do before you acted, otherwise, it could cause misunderstandings. Dangerous ones. So far, Kratos had not treated her unkindly, but there was no way of knowing what he would do if she attempted to slip away into the forest without saying anything. When he didn't react immediately, she turned on her heel to go.

"Hold on a moment," the man said and then he stooped down on one knee, to fix his boot.

Anna's heart sunk, although she had half-expected something like this to happen. It seemed that Kratos was preparing to go with her. He intended to escort her to the bathroom.

In that moment, she made her decision: she would suffer this small humiliation, and when Kratos let his guard down, she would cut his throat open.

The decision came easily, and Anna felt quite remorseless about it. A sense of cold stillness had taken root inside of her, a feeling of clarity that comes only to individuals in the most desperate of circumstances.

It was a matter of self-preservation. Anna was not sure of Kratos' objective, but she was absolutely certain that if she was taken prisoner a second time, she would die. Now was not the time to worry about Kratos' redeeming qualities, or wonder if he had a legitimate reason for helping her. He was a half-elf, and it was entirely possible that he was an enemy. Furthermore, if his "companion" showed up, her chances of successfully escaping would be effectively cut in half, if not eliminated all together. She had to act, and if Kratos wasn't going to let her leave the clearing without him, then she would just have to-

"Anna."

"Wh-what?!" she stammered, snapping back into focus.

Kratos was holding his knife out to her, hilt first, the sheathed blade pinched between his index and middle finger in a casual gesture. The instinct to jump for the weapon, to catch Kratos off guard and plunge the blade into his neck made her heartbeat drum in her ears.

"Take this with you. Just in case."

It took Anna several seconds to understand what the man was saying, and twice as many to believe that she had heard him correctly. He was offering her a weapon. Cautiously, the young woman extended her hand, and closed it around the hilt of the knife. Kratos let go of it, and observed her reaction impassively.

It all seemed very surreal.

Anna looked at the knife. Up close, it appeared more ornamental than practical. The hilt was inlaid with gold, and the cresent-shaped pommel and cross-guard were both decorated with characters from the angelic language. It had considerable weight to it though, and when Anna removed the decorative scabbard she found that the business end of it was in good, sharp, condition.

"Why are you giving this to me?"

"Loaning," he corrected her. "And I gave it to you because I didn't think you'd have much luck handling the sword in your condition."

"Oh," said Anna. The meaning of his gesture was only now beginning to sink in.

Neither of them moved for a long time, until Kratos finally said, "Is something wrong?"

"No," Anna said quickly, feeling foolish. "Sorry. I'm going then."

She forced herself to walk slowly, moving in the direction that she judged the underbrush would provide her with the most cover. Throwing glances back over her shoulder to ensure that Kratos was not going to follow her, she saw that he was not even looking in her direction. He was just staring off into the distance, unnaturally still and focused. Anna did not think he was merely averting his eyes. He must be watching for his "companion."

When she was absolutely certain that she was out of both seeing and hearing range, Anna altered her course and broke into a sprint. It was a stupid thing to do, intellectually, she knew that. Somehow, though, Anna knew that it needed to be done. Staying where Kratos was, convincing herself that he could be trusted – both of these things were impossibilities.

Anna had to leave. She no longer knew why, or for whose protection. Only that it needed to be done.

* * *

No amount of adrenaline could compensate for the damage that solitary confinement had done to Anna's physical endurance. It wasn't long before she was forced to slow down. Her legs refused to do anything more strenuous than a light jog, and at times she slowed to a walk to catch her breath. Her feet ached, provided little protection by the flimsy, standard issue shoes that the Desians had provided at the ranch.

All the while, the young woman moved south, using the sun in sky to determine her position. This, she hoped, would eventually take her to Luin. She was fairly certain that the Rheiard had crashed somewhere south-east of the ranch; the woods at the base of the north-eastern mountain ranges, most likely. In some places, she could see the sky through the trees, and the shadow of mountains in the distance.

Not for the first time in her life, Anna wished that she was more of an outdoorswoman. Her own mother had been nothing of the kind; a prim little housewife who paled at the idea of spending any length of time without access to a full-length mirror. Anna's father was similarly domesticated. An easy-going and gentle character, he was well known in Luin for his friendly demeanor and his competence as a conversationalist. This made him very marketable as a barber, but Anna had heard her mother complain on more than one occasion that his habits were disconcertingly "unmasculine". In any case, Anna had not been raised in an environment that was contusive to learning the skills required for survival in the wilderness.

To avoid getting lost, Anna had decided to try to walk in as straight a line as possible. In the back of her mind, she worried that she was leaving behind a trail that was too easy to follow, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it. Changing course now would only confuse her sense of direction.

After some time (there was no way for Anna to determine precisely how long it had been, but the sun had traveled a fair distance in the sky) she spotted something moving through the trees ahead of her. At first she mistook it for a human being, but it quickly became clear that it was much too large for this to be the case. Furthermore, its skin was a pale, sickly shade of green, a fact which had nothing to do with the greenish light filtered through the leaves overhead.

An ogre. Anna cursed her luck, and started to back up, keeping her eyes fixed on the predatory monster in the distance. Fortunately, it did not seem to have noticed her.

A low growl from behind her caused the young woman to start, and pivot on her heel. Another monster – a creature she'd never seen before –crouched behind her. A four-legged beast with green and white fur, it almost resembled a wolf, or even a dog. Its size rivaled that of a unicorn, and a pair of huge, bat-like ears, pointed up in opposite directions, nearly doubled its already impressive height. It had strong legs, built for running. Anna knew that it would catch her effortlessly if she tried to escape.

The dog-monster's lips drew back into a snarl, baring its massive, jagged white teeth.

Anna acted automatically. "BACK OFF!" she shouted. It was a trick that was supposed to work with cave bears. She drew herself up to appear as large as she could, and drew Kratos' knife up above her shoulder, prepared to defend herself. "BACK OFF! GO ON, YOU HEARD ME, GET LOST!"

It was the wrong thing to do. Heavy footfalls alerted her to the movement of the ogre, drawn by the commotion. It was moving towards them, lumbering through the underbrush with crashing steps that shook the earth.

Anna did not turn immediately. Her intuition said that if she broke eye-contact with the dog-monster in front of her, it would take it as a sign of weakness and lunge at her. In an act of desperation, she shook her knife menacingly, and took a few steps forward. It was probably a completely suicidal gesture, but not doing anything was just as dangerous.

"GET OUT OF HERE!" she hollered.

And to her complete and utter surprise, it worked. The dog-monster backed away from her, and then darted away into the bush, tail between its legs. It was probably the presence of the ogre that had made its decision. Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw the massive green creature was nearly upon her.

She was running at full tilt before she had even made a conscious decision to do so. It was, of course, her best and only chance of survival. Ogres were slower and less coordinated than other monsters. In theory, it was entirely possible that Anna would be able to outrun it.

In practice, however, things were hardly so simple. Anna was already exhausted, and every step that the ogre took made the earth vibrate under her feet. It was all she could do to keep her footing. The ground was treacherous, a jumble of rocks and roots and vegetation. Several times she stumbled, but managed to remain upright. She was terrified that she was going to trip and fall on her own knife, and with growing despair, she realized that the ogre was gaining ground. She could feel and hear the proximity of its thundering footsteps, without even looking to see where it was.

Perhaps it was a tiny sound, or perhaps it was a change in the air, but some instinct made Anna fling her body to side just in time to avoid the giant fist that smashed into the ground beside her a second later. She fell hard, and then crashed against the forest floor a second time when a shock wave from the ogre's attack actually hit her with enough force to lift her whole body clear off the ground. Disoriented, she tried to roll away from the point of impact, but something enormous and heavy slammed down on her from above. Anna felt the ogre's huge, warm hand encircle her waist, completely encasing the lower half of her body in his grip.

For a single moment, Anna was two people. One of them had surrendered to lunacy, and she was screaming uncontrollably as the great beast lifted her into the air. The other part of her was strangely removed from the situation, calm, and conscious of the knife that was still in her hand. She brought it down swiftly, with something akin to clinical precision, plunging it into the soft flesh of the ogre's wrist and then wrenching it outwards to cleave along its arm, leaving a long, red gash behind.

_'Maybe it will bleed out_,' thought the calm part of her, without any real hope, as her body tumbled limply out of the ogre's grip. The impact knocked the wind out of her, cutting off the half of her that was still screaming.

Once more of a single mind, Anna clambered to her feet, ready to act, if not entirely sure of what she was going to do, when a blur of white and pastel green fur streaked past her. It was the dog-monster.

Like a creature out of the ancient myths, the dog-like-thing shot forward and then leapt through the air, propelled to impossible heights by its powerful hind legs. Its teeth closed around the ogre's throat in a bloody vice.

Somehow the giant remained upright, thrashing violently. For a split second, the dog simply hung there, its jaw clamped around the ogre's neck. In the next moment, the ogre had somehow managed to grip its attacker by the leg and wrench it away. Without thinking, Anna ran forward and plunged her knife into the ogre's belly, ripping her blade across its abdomen. Warm, foul smelling blood sprayed out from the wound, splashing across the young woman's face and neck, and soaking the front of her shift. Something she did not want to think about slithered out of the ogre's open wound, and landed on one of her feet.

It was sheer luck that the giant collapsed sideways, instead of landing on top of her, for Anna would not have had the presence of mind to move out of the way at that moment.

"Aughhh!" she exclaimed, completely unable to without her disgust. "Oh my –! Ahhhhhh! Aughhhh!"

She continued like this for some time, holding her arms away from herself and stamping her feet, before she noticed that she had an audience. The dog-monster's large brown eyes were fixed on her with obvious curiosity, its head tilted slightly to the side in a manner that sent its ears askew in a fashion which would have been endearing, had the creature's muzzle and chest not been stained bright red with fresh, wet blood.

It licked its nose.

Revolted, Anna shook her knife at it without much conviction. "Don't even think about it!" she blustered, fully aware of how ridiculous she must have sounded.

The dog-monster fidgeted in agitation, and Anna saw that it was favouring one of its hind legs. It seemed safe to assume that it would not attack her, or at least that it would not be able to do so without some difficulty.

"Why did you even come here?"

As the young woman asked the question, a plausible explanation occurred to her. She remembered that the dog-monster had appeared after the first blood of battle had been drawn. Perhaps it had been attracted to the smell. Monsters, particularly those of the scavenging variety, were known to target other monsters that had been weakened by injury.

"If you're here to eat it, by all means," Anna said out loud, gesturing towards the ogre. When the dog did not move, she grew uncomfortable under it's gaze, "Well then go away. Stop staring at me!"

The dog-monster huffed in an indignant manner, and limped away from her, vanishing into the maze of trees outside of her vision.

When Anna was absolutely certain that it would not be coming back, she walked several paces away from the ogre corpse and then let her legs give out, collapsing against the trunk of a tree. A tremor ran through her, as the magnitude of what had just transpired made itself clear in her mind.

Pressing her face up against the rough bark of the tree, she then proceeded to weep quietly for roughly a quarter of an hour.

When she was finished, she stood up, cleaned Kratos' knife as best she could on the front of her shift, and then spent some time looking for the sheath, which she had misplaced at some point during the confusion. When she did not find it, she gave up, and then tried instead to regain her bearings. She could not see the sky through the trees above her, but she could tell roughly which direction the sunlight was coming from. It was late in the day, so she knew that it would be sinking towards the west, and then judged, to the best of her ability, which way was south from there.

She was beginning to get thirsty and, if the smell was anything to go by, she thought it unlikely that ogre's blood was safe to drink.

For the next several kilometers, Anna had the impression that the monsters of the forest were actually avoiding her. She attributed this to the stench of ogre's blood that coated her body, because no monster – aside from that peculiar green dog – would risk confrontation with such a fearsome beast without good reason.

The sun was beginning to sink, and Anna knew that she needed to think about making preparations for the night ahead while it was still light out.

It was not long after that Anna saw a curious thing: a twinkle orange light through the trees ahead of her. As she drew closer, it became clear that the light was being reflected off the surface of a large body of water. Anna stumbled towards it with the clumsiness of a drunk, even as her mind told her firmly that it was probably not fresh water. The only body of water within the vicinity of the Asgard Human Ranch, that she knew of, was the ocean.

Bursting through the trees, Anna was astonished to emerge on the grassy bank of a small lake, a small enclosed area sheltered by trees and, in some places, steep banks of rock and earth.

To her eyes, it seemed like an impossible mirage. The surface of the water was totally still, and in the light of the sinking sun, it had the appearance of liquid fire, a perfect reflection of the sky above it. If she had still believed in such things, she might have even gone so far to label it as a sacred place. How else could a natural watering hole like this one remain untainted by the presence of monsters and other beasts, if not for some divine protection?

Not quite believing the sight in front of her eyes, Anna waded into the water until she was submerged almost to her knees, and then she used her free hand to scoop some of it into her mouth. It was clean. Clamping the flat of Kratos' knife between her legs, Anna used both hands to drink and splash water over herself, relishing the feeling of cool water on her face. When she was satisfied, she decided that she wanted to take a bath.

For a moment, she considered simply plunging into the lake fully clothed. That way some of the blood would be rinsed out of her garments, and they would remain pleasantly cool and damp against her overheated skin when she emerged. On second thought, she realized that they would not dry before nightfall, and then she would be forced to sleep in them that way. Spending the night in wet clothes seemed like a decidedly unwise idea. No clothing then. She would have to wait until morning to clean them.

Anna stripped down quickly, and then deposited her shift and undergarments in a heap near the edge of the water. The knife, she clamped between her teeth, careful to avoid touching it with her lips or her tongue. The idea of leaving it behind did not even occur to her. Somehow, she did not feel entirely naked so long as it was on her person. Humiliation she could deal with. Vulnerability, she could not.

She splashed back into the lake, and then, for the first time in months, Anna took a good look at her reflection.

The change in her appearance was dramatic, but it was not as bad as it could have been. Her face, still flecked with the blood, seemed to have aged, and the long hair that framed it was now a lusterless, frizzy mess. She had lost a frightening amount of weight. This particular change was most obvious in her arms and legs. On twig-like limbs, her joints now seemed overly knobby, her hands too large. Her breasts had lost their fullness as well, and below them her ribcage had become prominently visible.

These changes did not particularly alarm Anna, as she had expected them. She had seen far, far worse when she had been held with the rest of the prisoners. As the subject of Kvar's most important research project, Anna had avoided the effects of malnutrition that plagued the rest of the prisoners. Most of these changes could be remedied with time.

What did frighten her, however, was the dark round sphere now embedded in her collarbone, cold against her skin. Did she even have time?

The distinct _flop, flop flop_, of booted feet, made Anna forget her appearance and lift her eyes, readying her knife. What she saw froze her in her tracks. A young boy, dressed in a straw hat and shorts, as if for a summer outing, stood on the shoreline, not far from where Anna had deposited her clothing. He appeared to be rooted in place by shock, and he gaped at her in open astonishment.

Anna lowered her weapon immediately. She did not feel embarrassed so much as she felt slightly sorry for the child, who was obviously frightened. More for his sake than for her own, she made a modest effort to cover herself with her hands.

"I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "Are… your parents anywhere nearby?"

The child's mouth worked soundlessly for a few moments, and then he spun on his heel, and tore away from her as quickly as his legs would carry him. Bounding along the edge of the water, the boy was out of sight in moments, disappearing behind a small grassy hillock on the eastern side of the lake.

Anna scrambled to shore and threw her clothing back on before hurrying in the direction that the little boy had disappeared.

"Mom!" she heard the boy shriek, his high, panicked voice carrying clearly across the water, "Mom, there's a crazy lady with a knife, and she's _naked!_"

* * *

_A/N: Oh snap. I bet you thought something sexy was going to happen._


	4. Interlude & Alternate Destinations

**Dehumanization**

_-__Interlude-_

Left to himself, Kratos decided to make good use of his time, and began to work his way through the files that he had pilfered from the Human Ranch. The light of the day was fading but, with his enhanced vision, Kratos had no difficulty reading them.

Actually making sense of what he saw was another matter entirely.

Like most documentation related to the Age of Lifeless Beings, all of the pages were densely packed with columns of data and technical jargon. Not even Kratos, one of the four Seraphim, could divine much meaning from the text, and in order to interpret anything he found himself reading at a monotonous, grinding pace. This was worrisome, because it suggested that Yggdrasil's plans had been in development for much longer than he had initially suspected.

Given the obsessive quality of Kvar's writing, it was clear that his interest in the A012 – Anna – was not purely academic in nature. The Grand Cardinal had accumulated a staggering amount of useless information over the course of his research. In fact, Kvar had been monitoring the human girl so obsessively that it was a wonder his superiors had not called his sanity into question. Deliberately skipping over a chart of statistical data which, as far as Kratos could tell, was somehow linked to the unfortunate woman's sleeping habits, the ordinarily stoic angel felt one of the first twinges of irrational anger that he had experienced in over a century.

Anna had departed some time ago and, for some reason, she had not returned. Kratos didn't really think it was his place to interfere, and in fact, he was a bit relieved to be rid of her. Not that it mattered. Humans were short-lived creatures. She would die one way or another, and if she should happen to do so in the middle of nowhere, all the better. Yggdrasil would have one hell of a time recovering the Angelus project then.

In an absent way, though, Kratos did hope that Anna would be alright. It was a little bit like prying a little mouse free from a trap and then releasing it into the wild. One could not avoid hoping for its survival, despite the tiny creature's unlikely prospects. Perhaps it was that sentimentality that had prompted Kratos to part with his knife, a token commemorating his initiation into a covenant of knights, so many lifetimes ago. To think that after carrying it for nearly four millennia, he would part with it so easily.

Perhaps, if the angel of Cruxis had not been waiting for Noishe, and if his business in the city of ruins were not so pressing, he might have sacrificed a few more days to ensure that Anna returned home safely. Time didn't mean much to him, most of the time. But he had no time to worry over the fate of a single woman. There were much larger concerns that needed his attention, and time was of the essence.

Kratos returned to his papers, only to be interrupted a few moments later by the sound of footsteps. At first, he thought the woman had returned, but when he focused his hearing, he knew that the steps were much too heavy, and sounded strangely off-rhythm. They were almost certainly being made by something with three legs, and padded feet… With a sick lurch, he realized that the sounds were almost certainly being made by his companion.

He was on his feet and running in an instant, extending his wings as he went to propel himself forward. His papers scattered behind him as he went, forgotten.

* * *

He found Noishe hobbling slowly in his direction, favouring one leg. The protozoan was heavily matted with blood, but, much to Kratos' relief, a thorough check revealed no external injuries. Just to be safe, he began to work his fingers through the fur on Noishe's neck and back, feeling the skin underneath for any wounds that his eyes might have missed.

Noishe snapped at him, growling, and Kratos jerked back, startled by his companion's hostility.

"What?" the seraphim demanded.

The protozoan snorted, hackles raised, before turning to move on his way.

"Are you saying that this is somehow _my_ fault?" Kratos demanded, stomping after the disgruntled creature. Usually he had infinite patience for Noishe, (a virtue, given that conversing with the speechless creature was a great deal like playing a one-sided game of twenty questions) but seeing his companion injured had shaken him.

Noishe refused to look at him, which Kratos correctly interpreted to mean 'yes.'

The walk back to camp continued in stormy silence, both angel and protozoan uncharacteristically perturbed by the events of the day. When they arrived, Noishe limped over to his camping mat and sniffed it judiciously. Abruptly, he turned back to Kratos and let out a low, disgruntled woof, as if he had stumbled across some sort of damning evidence.

"What? Are you angry because I let that woman use your things? Is that what this is about?"

Noishe let out a high pitched whine, signalling his exasperation. 'You're missing the point," it seemed to say. With no further ado, the large dog-like creature tottered around the mat three times, and then plunked down on top of it, facing into the lean-to shelter.

"Would you at least let me examine your injury?" Kratos implored. The protozoan's large, bat-like ears twitched, but otherwise he gave no indication of having heard anything.

Kratos sighed, but did not force the matter. His instinct was to heal his companion, but doing so when the stubborn creature had explicitly indicated that he wanted no such thing would be an enormous breach of etiquette. In his opinion, Noishe was behaving like a spoiled child, but the protozoan's means of communicating with others was limited. To disregard his wishes, and to actually _treat_ him like a spoiled child, would be unspeakably belittling.

"I don't understand," he stated frankly, "I haven't done anything wrong."

Noishe did not answer. Kratos waited for some time for the protozoan to acknowledge him, but eventually the large arshis' breathing slowed to a deep and steady rhythm. He was fast asleep.

Kratos spent the rest of the evening searching through the dark, fumbling on hands and knees for the papers that he so carelessly discarded before. He felt that he had been subjected to a great injustice, but still made certain not to disturb the creature slumbering underneath the tarp. He was not bitter enough to take out his frustrations on an injured old friend.

He considered building a camp fire in order to continue with his reading, but eventually decided against it. Although his body did not require sleep, his mind needed rest. Surely everything would seem much clearer in the morning.

* * *

_-End Interlude-_

* * *

The interior of caravan was cramped and poorly lit. The only source of illumination was a small lantern, suspended from the ceiling by a chain, which swayed and flickered in time with the movement of the carriage. Anna suspected that even during the day, the small round windows set in the walls would not let in enough light to diminish the cave-like quality of the room. The vehicle's powerful motor rumbled enough to shake the floor, rattling the contents of the cupboards and drawers.

Even so, there was something homey and inviting about it. After all the time that she had spent in a hostile, prison environment, Anna could not help but feel charmed by the hand-crafted wooden furniture, the earthy colours, and the loud, mismatched patterns that decorated the cushions and drapes. There was a domesticity about the place that made her feel safe, even though the sensation of being in motion was a bit nauseating, at times.

The head of the caravanning family, Alden, had informed her with no small amount of pride that the caravan was a relic of the Sylvaranti dynasty, powered by magi-technology, and that he himself had had a hand in its restoration. She was surprised to learn that he was a scholar of sorts, and that his family had actually been commissioned by the University of Palmacosta just to travel in it, to learn more about the way that the inhabitants of the past might have lived.

Anna found her gaze wandering toward the front of the room, to rest on the door of the cockpit, a separate room that was set low in the front of the carriage. Alden, his wife Maria, and his eldest son were all on the other side, perhaps discussing Anna's strange appearance in privacy. Above it, there was a bunk set in wall close to the ceiling, and she glanced up just in time to see the young boy from before peeking out over the edge, obviously unsure of what to make of this strange woman's presence in his home. The boy, (whose name, Anna had learned, was Eric,) hid his face when he saw her looking, and hastily pulled a curtain shut around him, to hide from view. Anna did not blame him.

After the scene that she had caused at the lake, the former prisoner had scrambled to find her clothes and then chased him all the way back to his family's caravan. The sight of her - wild-haired and covered in dark, crusted ogre blood - had thrown the child's father, Alden, into an uproar, and the commotion had drawn another, younger man out of the caravan, sword at the ready. Confronted, Anna's first instinct was to flee, but the men's aggression was quickly abated by a ruddy faced woman with a thick waist and square hands.

"Nova, for heaven's sake, put that down!" she had exclaimed, in a high voice that did not match her heavy-set figure, "Stop terrorizing her! She's wearing a prisoner's uniform! That girl is from the ranch!"

The large woman had taken Anna aside, cooing nonsense at her as if trying to sooth a frightened animal.

"You're safe now," Anna remembered the other woman saying, "Everything is going to be alright. You're safe now."

Even after only a few hours, the memory had taken on an unreal quality, as if she were recalling the events of a dream and not something that had really happened to her. Anna could only vaguely remember the discussion that had followed. She had apologized, of course, and then the caravanners had decided to break camp, for fear that the Desians might be on her trail. She had begged to be taken to Luin, and they had agreed, though not without reluctance.

While the men were stowing the family's possessions in the caravan's cargo hold, the ruddy-faced woman, Maria, had herded Anna into a small tent where she could wash and change in privacy.

Now Anna was seated at the family's small table, a half-finished plate of potatoes and roast beef on the table in front of her. In their rush to depart, the family had only been able to provide her with the last of the dinner they had prepared earlier in evening, and a relatively fresh mug full of tea. The latter had long since gone cold. With the way the caravan rumbled as it moved, the liquid inside the mug sloshed violently back and forth, and splashed Anna's face when she tried to drink from it. Normally, a little mess would not have deterred her from eating or drinking, but she was worried that she might dirty her borrowed clothing. Not a fine way to say thank you.

The former prisoner shifted in her chair, hands twisting into the faded red fabric of the dress that the caravanning woman had given to her. It was several times too large – a testament to the impressive girth of its real owner. This only served to emphasize the dilapidated state of Anna's figure. Even though she had done the best she could to cinch up the fabric, wrapping the other woman's belt twice around her own waist, the end result still left her looking rather like a writing stick in a flower pot. The neckline of the dress hung low on her shoulders, drooping down to expose her exsphere.

"Does it hurt?"

Anna looked up sharply, to see that the eldest of Maria's two sons, a heavily tanned, gentle-looking young man with dark curly hair. His name, she remembered, was Nova, and according to Maria he was in his early teenage years.

Absently, Anna realized that her hand had strayed to her collarbone.

"No, it's not painful," she told him, which was partially true. "It feels cold sometimes though."

"I can't imagine what it's like," said the young man, with genuine compassion. "You must have been through so much."

"Hmm," Anna responded. Deliberately, she filled her mouth with a forkful of potatoes so that she would have an excuse not to say anything. She knew that Nova was trying to be kind, but she was not entirely comfortable with the direction that the conversation was taking.

"I have to ask though…" Nova began, hesitantly, "how did you manage to get all the way to Lake Umacy in your condition?"

The young woman nearly choked.

"Wh-what did you say?!" she demanded.

"I'm sorry," the young lad shied away from her immediately. "It was an invasive question."

"No," Anna tried to calm her voice, calling her numbers to mind, "I meant that I didn't hear you properly. Did you say Lake Umacy?"

"That's right."

"Are you sure?"

"Well, yes. We followed a map."

Anna was at a loss. Logically, it was impossible that she had traveled so far south of the ranch in such a short time, but the caravanners were obviously quite familiar with the territory, and certainly, the lake that Anna had seen matched any description of Lake Umacy that she had ever heard. With a peculiar sense of self-satisfaction, she wondered what the old pastor in Luin would have to say if he learned that Anna had tainted the sacred spring with the blood of an ogre.

_Kratos was telling the truth,_ she realized, _we were a long way from the Human Ranch._ The revelation had only a dull impact on her, compared to the questions that this new information had presented to her. How had he moved her such a great distance from the Human Ranch by himself? How long had she been unconscious? Who – or rather, _what_ – was he?

"Miss?"

"I'm sorry," Anna said, remembering that Nova had asked her a question, "I don't know how I got all the way to Lake Umacy. There was someone else with me. He… cared for me when I was sick. He must have carried me a great distance."

"What happened to him?" the tactless question emanated from above, where Eric was now unabashedly leaning out over the edge of his bunk. Anna felt a surge of concern for the small boy, with the jostling motion of the caravan, she feared that he would be shaken from his perch.

"We parted ways," Anna told him, hoping to avoid the question. The small child was not deterred by her efforts.

"Why?"

It was a question that had been lurking on the edges of Anna's thoughts for some time now. Snug inside the traveling family's caravan, the suspicions that she had held against the man now seemed groundless, paranoid. She weighed several possible responses before choosing one to say aloud.

_Because I thought he might __actually be part of a rebel faction of Desians, who planned to use the Angelus Project as a weapon. _

_Because I saw him use magic._

_Because he's a half-elf. _

"We had different destinations in mind. I wanted to go to Luin, and he wanted to go to Asgard."

Nova was incredulous. "So he just left you?!"

"Well," Anna faltered, "it wasn't that simple."

Fortunately, a high, familiar voice interrupted their conversation before Nova could press her for any additional information.

"You boys mind your own business. Can't you see she's tired?" Maria lumbered gracelessly to the table, examining Anna's unfinished plate with an air of disbelief. "What's the matter, dearie?" she asked, "Are you feeling sick?"

Anna shook her head. The truth of the matter was that the woman had presented her with a larger portion than Anna had ever seen in her entire life, let alone her time in the Human Ranch. Even if she had not met Maria's two children, it would have been obvious from the way that she served food that the sturdy woman was accustomed to feeding growing young boys.

"I'm just tired," she said, trying to be diplomatic about things. She decided that she rather liked Maria, and she did not want to say anything that might inadvertently point towards her eating habits, (a subject about which Anna's own mother often displayed great sensitivity.) The robust woman laid a hand on Anna's shoulder in a tender, familiar gesture.

"Well you can just use my bunk. Alden and will be in the cockpit all night. If we keep a steady pace, we should be in Luin by tomorrow afternoon."

Anna nodded again, as the feeling of being in a dream gripped her more powerfully than ever.

She allowed herself to be guided gently across the floor, to an alcove in the back, a compact bed just large enough to fit two people. Maria tucked her in, like a child, and then pulled the curtains closed around her with a soft 'goodnight.' The curtain left Anna in the dark, but at such close quarters she could still hear the movements of the caravanners on the opposite side quite clearly.

Now that her mind was no longer fixed on immediate problems, like survival, thinking about Luin made her feel slightly anxious. A lot could change in a year – there was no guarantee that her friends and family would still be there. And then there were the others, those who had lost friends, lovers, sons and daughters in the raid the year before. All of them, missing their own loved ones. All of them wondering why, of all the prisoners who had been taken, only Anna had been spared.

And then there was the rumbling noise of the caravan's engine, the sound of magitechnology a disturbing reminder of the Rheaird, and Kratos by consequence. Anna's mind refused to stay still, swinging violently back forth like a pendulum. _Kratos. The Ranch. The prisoners left behind. The people of Luin. The prisoners left behind. The Ranch. Kratos.. _Sleep did not come easily, and when it did, it seized her only in fits and starts.

* * *

_(A/N): Man, I write about Anna going to sleep a lot. Gotta find a way to break this habit. :l _

_I was originally planning to make this caravan a sort of dragon-wagon set up, but then I reviewed some footage of Nova's caravan, and I realized that that thing is A FRICKING MONSTER TRUCK. Seriously, look at those wheels! _

_Sadly, the only game footage I found was in German, so I sincerely apologize if I messed up on Nova's background. I know he's into zoology, but I couldn't work it in. (I didn't think anyone would be particularly interested if I threw a butterfly hunt into the middle of this chapter, anyways.)  
_


	5. Nesting

**Dehumanization**

Observing the state of her hair in the mirror, Anna could only conclude that the whole lot of it had to go as soon as she got home. Her once carefully maintained tresses were now dry, brittle and beyond repair. In some places, the damage extended all the way to her roots. Anna had grown up in and around her father's barbershop, so she knew enough to be sure that no amount of egg yolk or expensive oils would be enough to restore it. It would be easiest to cut it off and let it grow in healthy.

It seemed best not to mention her plan to Maria, who was doing everything within her power to make the young refugee in her care look presentable when the caravan arrived in town.

By rights, Maria should have been sleeping. She and Alden had driven through the night, controlling the vehicle in alternating shifts. She was bleary eyed, and seemed to bear a great weight on her shoulders. Although Anna had done her best to reassure the sturdy woman that she would be able to manage on her own, Maria had insisted on helping her, sitting her down and combing out her hair like a child. Watching the mirror as the other woman teased apart a particularly resilient knot with her fingers, Anna thought it was a shame that Maria did not have any daughters. Although the caravanners were a warm, close-knit family, the younger woman suspected that Maria sometimes felt isolated in a household that otherwise contained only men.

All things considered, Maria did a good job. Once Anna's hair was braided and pulled back, she looked tidier, and a sparing application of paint and powder to her cheeks and eyes gave her face some colour. Nothing could be done to change the fact that she was still startlingly skinny – the residents of Luin were going to be shocked, regardless of their attempts to clean her up – but it was still an improvement. At least she looked civilized, now.

When the family arrived at their destination, parking the caravan a fair distance from the outskirt of town, it was late in the afternoon. Everyone rushed outside to stretch and enjoy the fresh air, blinking as they emerged in the sunlight. The youngest member of the family, Eric, was the first one down the ladder. Still restless from the long journey, he hit the ground running and whooping, and in moments his older brother had joined him in a game of run and chase.

Anna recognized the area. They had reached an open, grassy plain, and she could see Luin in the distance ahead, a dark shadow against the sparkling waters of Lake Sinoa.

"Why did we stop so far away from town?" she asked.

Alden dismounted the ladder with a heavy thump. He was a large, impressive man, structured like a drum, and now he laughed in a deep, hearty voice. "What do you suppose the locals would do if they saw an enormous, noisy machine heading towards their city?"

"They'd probably think the Desians were attacking," Anna realized. The caravan didn't really resemble any of the military machinery that the Desians typically used, but magi-technology rarely fell into the hands of ordinary human beings. If the townspeople laid eyes on the caravan, it would undoubtedly lead to city-wide panic.

Maria nodded. "We'll just have Nova run into town, and he'll inform the mayor and the rest of the citizens that we're on our way. In the meantime, you can just relax and have a rest with us."

Anna was hesitant. She did not want to cause a scene when she arrived in Luin. Warning or no warning, a giant mechanical caravan rumbling into town would certainly attract a great deal of attention, and publicize her return.

"I'd like to go with Nova, if that's alright," she said.

Alden blinked, and then assumed a concerned expression. "Are you sure? It's a fair distance on foot."

"Yes, I'm sure. I'm just very eager to see my family again," she said. It wasn't a lie. By this time, Anna had become entirely focused on reuniting with her parents. Her mother and father were the two people in the world that she associated the most strongly with security, and they were also the only people upon whom she could comfortably depend on. As long as they were okay, Anna felt like _she_ would be okay. In this mindset, everyone else she had known before the human ranch had taken on secondary importance. In fact, just thinking about meeting any of her old friends or neighbours in her current condition made her feel slightly overwhelmed.

"Well, alright," said Alden, "but be sure to pace yourself. You can tell Nova to slow down if you need to."

"I will," said Anna. In truth, she did not think it would be necessary. Nova had been excruciatingly considerate towards her since their first encounter, pulling out chairs and constantly referring to her as 'Miss.' She had learned from Maria that her eldest son was just shy of fifteen years old, making him nearly ten years Anna's junior, but the polite address still made her feel aged beyond her years.

"You be sure to let us know if you need anything, and come by to visit us again before we leave. We'll be in town for a day or two." The sturdy woman added. "I wish we could stay longer, but the dean will cause an uproar if we're late to the next checkpoint."

"I will," Anna repeated. "I still have to give you back your dress, after all."

Maria barked with laughter. "Don't be silly, girl," she chided Anna affectionately. "That thing is too small for me now anyways, I'd rather it were in the hands of someone who can get some use out of it. You just concentrate on getting healthy. Eat something! You'll fill it out eventually."

Her statement provoked a giggle from Anna, who didn't think she would ever put on enough weight to wear the tent-like garment without looking ridiculous. It was the first time she'd laughed in - she couldn't recall how long it had been. "Thank you," she said, addressing both the woman and her husband at once. "I mean really, you saved my—oof!"

Maria had pulled her into a bone crushing hug. "That's enough now," she said. "We'll be following you into town soon."

Anna returned the gesture awkwardly, for her arms were partially pinned to her sides. She had not spoken much during their trip together, so she wasn't entirely sure how she had managed to endear herself to the older woman. Still, she admired the woman's easily affectionate manner.

It was a profound relief to part ways with the caravanners. She liked them, and it horrified her to think of burdening the pleasant family with the knowledge of her fate.

* * *

The walk to Luin was uneventful. The open plain made it easy to spot monsters at a distance, and there weren't very many to see anyways; the only creatures in the area were harmless, grass-eating things that scattered when they sensed the two humans approaching.

Nova was doing his best to hide it, but it was clear that he would have preferred to make the trip alone. Anna wasn't offended. The young man's feelings were entirely understandable. He was an energetic fifteen year old boy, and she was a waif, still tired and sore from the day before. She had only given him clipped answers when he asked questions, mainly because she did not feel like discussing the Human Ranch, or Luin. Or what it was like to see an ogre – Nova was awfully fixated on that part of her story.

To the young man's credit, he did make several valiant attempts to strike up a conversation, usually by remarking upon things that he saw along the trip. Most of these were things that Anna found completely uninteresting, like tiny insects and animal burrows, and even though she tried to be polite, Nova still seemed to sense her boredom. Eventually he stopped trying to get Anna's attention, and only spoke from time to time to ask if she would like to take a break. Anna refused all of these offers, save one. This particular question was phrased somewhat differently from the others.

"Do you mind if we stop?"

Anna could tell by the way that the young man's eyes repeatedly drifted off to the right, even as he spoke to her, that he was distracted by something off in the distance. He was not inquiring purely for her sake.

She told him that she didn't mind at all.

As she settled down on the ground, Nova gave her his shoulder bag and then excused himself, wandering off to investigate whatever it was that had caught his attention. He moved a few paces off, to a patch of grass that, as far as Anna could tell, had no discernable point of interest. After a few moments, he returned to her side and plunked down next to her. He looked slightly disappointed.

"What were you looking at?" Anna inquired, helping herself to the canteen from Nova's pack. She did not expect to find his answer particularly interesting, but it seemed appropriate to try to fill up the silence somehow. Nova shook his head.

"It's nothing really. I thought I saw some Velocidragon tracks, but it was just a really big Cockatrice. The prints were old, anyway."

Anna couldn't imagine why anyone would actually _want _to find Velocidragon tracks, but Nova's statement intrigued her. "You can tell how old the tracks are by looking at them?"

"Sure," Nova told her, shrugging. "Not to the hour, or anything, but you can get an idea."

During Anna's experience in the woods, she had wished, desperately, that she knew more about outdoor survival skills. Now it occurred to her that she was sitting right next to someone who spent all of his time traveling outside of city borders, camping and living off of the land.

"Could you teach me how?"

Nova looked surprised for a moment, and then his expression transformed and brightened into a wide smile. It was as if she had given him a wonderful compliment. "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course," Anna told him. She supposed that not many people asked him about this kind of thing. "I think it would be a very useful thing to learn."

The rest of the trip passed in amiable conversation. Nova was glad to have an appreciative audience, and once Anna began to ask the right questions (directing the conversation away from topics like cockatrice mating habits and towards information that would be more useful in practical application) she found that she quite enjoyed his company. Speaking was beginning to feel natural to her again, the way it had before solitary confinement.

From then on, they were friends.

* * *

Marching deliberately in the direction of home, Anna kept her eyes straight forward. In her peripheral vision, she saw people glancing curiously in her direction. Some stares lingered longer than others. Anna did not acknowledge any of them. She wasn't ready.

"Where are we going?" Nova asked quietly, trotting alongside her. He had picked up on Anna's anxiety, and his nervous manner reflected hers.

"My parents'," she told him. "It's not far. It's a big, two story building, and there's a barbershop…"

Anna trailed off as she hurried past the town's single inn, and caught sight of the building that she had been describing. It had changed. The door was now painted blue, and there was a big new sign painted over head. The sign depicted a sword and an axe, crossed at the hilt. It gave Anna a sick, sinking feeling in the bottom of her stomach. Her father was a pacifist, her mother, a housewife; this sign had no business looming above the threshold of their home. She heard a ringing, clang sound from within the building, and then another. After the third, Nova spoke up timidly.

"Are you sure this is the right place?"

Anna resisted the urge to snipe at her young escort; he had no way of knowing that she had only been a prisoner for a year. Instead she said, "I'm going to ask inside."

Boldly mounting the steps, she stepped through the door and entered the shop. There was a forge in the corner of the building running at full blast, heating the room. The smell of hot metal made Anna feel vaguely uncomfortable – Desians sometimes used heat to sterilize their equipment – but she pushed the feeling back and approached the counter.

An old man, well-muscled despite his years, was working at the anvil, hammering a large metal plate into shape. He glanced up at Anna as she approached, and then froze in mid-strike, hammer poised above his head.

"Hello Mister Andrews," said Anna. .

"Irving?" he said. "It… it is you, isn't it?"

"It's me," she said she gestured over her shoulder at her escort and said. "This is my friend, Nova. I was wondering if you could tell me what happened to my parents."

Mr. Andrews sputtered for a moment, and then all at once he began to disentangle himself from his work in a jumbled rush. The metal plate was plunged into cold water unfinished, his tools carelessly discarded. "Oh yes," he said hastily, "of course, of course. The two of them moved closer to the town square."

Anna heard Nova let out his breath in a relieved _whoosh_ behind her.

"It's just a little place," Mr. Andrews continued, "lots of flowers around the front – I hear that's your dad's work there, curious thing that… but how did you escape? Did anyone else..?"

Anna studied her toes, trying to think of an appropriate way to answer the question.

"Ah, no, I'm sorry," said Mr. Andrews. Anna's body language had communicated enough. "You should go find your family and let them know that you're safe. Do you want me to go with you, to help you find it?"

"No thank you, sir, I'm sure I can manage," Anna dismissed his concern. This was the town that she had grown up in; she could have navigated the streets with her eyes closed. To Nova, she added, "The mayor's house is right along the way. I'll show you."

"Okay," he said. He was holding the strap of his shoulder bag tightly, with both hands. She could tell that he was anxious to leave.

Before she reached the door, Mr. Andrews called out to her. "Oi! Lady Luck!"

Anna paused. "Yes?"

"I think I might play the lottery again this week. What numbers do you think I should pick?"

This time, Anna really did smile.

"One, three, eight, nine, thirteen," she told him. "Let me know if you win."

Mr. Andrews was too busy scribbling down her numbers on a sheet of paper by the cash register to answer her. She saw him mouthing the words to himself quietly.

When they were both outside, and well on their way down the street, Nova finally asked, "Lady Luck?"

"It's an old nickname," she explained. "Because I have a knack for cards and games of chance. I think my father started it." She neglected to add that the rest of the townsfolk had only really picked up on it after she had started to gamble professionally. Maria would not appreciate it if she set a bad example.

"I guess you must be lucky." Nova grinned. "I mean, you escaped from the Human Ranch and everything."

"Not really," she couldn't quite keep the edge out of her voice, "I just have a head for numbers, that's all. I'm good at figuring the odds, reading people, that kind of thing."

She remembered Kratos, and her sudden, foolish decision to strike out on her own in completely the wrong direction. Running into Nova and his family - now that _had _been a piece of luck.

"I'm _usually_ pretty good at that stuff, anyway," she amended.

"I bet you're great," said Nova, more because he was trying his best to be supportive and reassuring than because he knew a thing about cards. Anna appreciated the effort.

They had entered the town square. It was bustling with activity, just the way Anna remembered it, and only a few people spared her a second glance, most of them too preoccupied with their shopping or their respective conversations to notice the skinny young woman in oversized clothing weaving through the crowd, or the caravanner boy trotting along after her.

On the other hand, a sharp cry and the sound of breaking glass caused everyone to turn their heads and look at the woman who had caused the commotion. Anna's hand automatically flew to the hilt of Kratos' knife, which she had tucked into the wrappings of Maria's belt.

"Oh my goddess! Oh my dear, sweet, baby girl!"

Anna let go of her weapon immediately, intensely embarrassed. She couldn't believe that she had nearly pulled a knife on her own mother.

Every eye in the market square had turned on her now, wide and disbelieving. A cacophony of voices rose at once, spreading news, speculating, expressing disbelief. And to think: she had hoped to avoid a scene.

Anna tried to ignore the stares, and crossed the square to where her mother was still rooted in place.

"Hi mom," she said.

Her mother burst into tears, babbling incoherent nonsense and waving her hands.

Anna knew that was just her way of saying that she was happy. Her mother had always been peculiar that way.

* * *

_**AN: Kratos will be back next chapter guys, I swear**__**. Right now he has to nurse his bff back to health.  
**_

_**Oh and about Anna being a pro-gambler. I meant to foreshadow that a bit more. I had this whole thing where Anna was looking for Kratos' "tell" but then I edited it out and totally forgot to add it back in later. I'll do some substantive editing... someday.  
**_


	6. Poker Anna

A/N: I did too much research for this chapter, you guys, TOO MUCH. This is why I could never even consider creative writing as a career.

Edit: Made a few minor changes to the layout of Anna's house. It is now a one-story building with an underground cellar. All mention of "upstairs" have been eliminated.

**Dehumanization**

_Dear Nova,_

_I got your letter yesterday, and I'm glad to hear that the trip is going well. Say "thank you" to your mom for me, too. The new dress fits perfectly, and the embroidery is very pretty. I can't believe that she made it all by hand! (I've never been very good at that sort of thing.)_

_Tell your father that I appreciate his offer, but there's really nothing to worry about. It's safe for me to stay here. The Desians have been in and out of Luin a few times but the watch always warns everyone before they get here. So far they haven't gone near the new house, anyways. Just to be safe, I've been using the cellar to hide when they come by. _

_Other than that, everything has been fine since I moved in. My parents gave away a lot of my old stuff, and my dad has been a bit sick since I was taken to the ranch, but everyone in the neighbourhood has been trying to help me get me back on my feet. Tomorrow my dad and I are going to set up the shop again, so pretty soon I'll have the money to start looking after myself properly._

_Let me know how the rest of your trip goes, and tell me if you see any interesting monsters. It was really nice to hear about what you've been doing since you left. Give my regards to your family, and tell them to stop by the next time you're going to be near Luin. _

_Hope to see you soon,_

_-Anna Irving_

* * *

The clatter of metal being rattled against metal announced Reginald Irving's approach. He held, in shaking hands, a silver platter from the kitchen, laden with the tools of his trade. Scissors of varying sizes, hair clippers, combs, brushes, pots of soaps, oils and neck powders, and a number of razor blades were stacked in a haphazard pile which had, until then, been carefully stowed away in the household cellar.

"Your mother insisted on saving them," he told Anna, with a rueful smile, "She's convinced that it's all psychological, and I'll be back to work in no time."

Reginald was referring to the tremor in his hands, a condition so severe that it had forced him to end his practice as a barber. Anna had been living in her parents' house for several weeks now, but it still startled her awake in the morning when she heard him crashing around in the kitchen, unable to avoid knocking pots and pans into each other when he made the family's breakfast.

Anna accepted the tray from him, (it was lighter than she expected) and set it down on the high wooden vanity that now occupied the front parlour. It wasn't as spacious as the counters that had been installed in her father's old shop, but it was the right height and size to suit her purpose. There was something homey about having handcrafted furniture on the shop floor anyways, and Anna hoped it would encourage more customers to come see them.

"Did you try asking the doctor about it?" she asked, referring to her father's hands.

"One," her father grumbled. "He said I was suffering from 'acute anxiety.' Never mind the fact that I started to feel a bit of a shiver in my fingers before… well, you know. They're all convinced that the whole problem is in my head." Reginald tapped a shaking finger against the side of his skull. "But here you are, safe and sound, and it still hasn't gone away. _Anxiety._ What have I got to be anxious about now, eh?"

Anna didn't say anything, but she could think of a few things.

Before her time in the human ranch, she had always seen her father as an infallible source of stability. Now he was struggling to make ends meet, and Anna had also noticed that he drank a great deal more than he had before. It was a disturbing turn of events, one that had served to compound the sense of alienation that had plagued her ever since she had escaped the Human Ranch. Right now she was a burden that her parents didn't need.

Anna moved to sweep her hair back, but her fingers only encountered empty air.

_Right,_ she thought, _that's gone._

Upon her return to Luin, Anna had asked her parents to cut it short for her. Her mother had obliged and, after a great deal of bickering with Reginald, she had finally trimmed it down to an even, boyishly short style. It was practical for the time being, and it would grow out eventually, but Anna could not help but lament the fact that it made her look even thinner than before.

Reginald laughed at her expression, rousing her from her melancholy. "It will grow back faster now that all the dead ends are taken care of," he reassured her. "I'm going to go back downstairs and get the big mirror, alright?"

Anna offered him a quick smile. "Thanks, dad."

Her father shuffled off in the direction of the cellar, and Anna returned to sorting out the contents of the tray.

Anna's mother, Wendy, had always expected that Reginald would be able to reopen his shop eventually, and she had organized the household accordingly. While she may have misunderstood her husband's condition, the decision to save his tools and chairs had been wise. It was unlikely that Reginald's hands would ever move with the same smoothness and precision that they had once possessed, but there were no complications to prevent his daughter from picking up where he had left off.

It had been a simple matter to convert the family's dining room into a barbershop where Anna could serve customers. It was a bit odd for a woman to open up a barbershop specifically for men, but years of helping her father on the shop floor had only familiarized Anna with his side of the trade.

In any case, it felt good to get back to work. Anna was glad for the opportunity to help her family in some way, and she felt that she was getting back into a good routine. She was beginning to feel healthy again too, and strong. While home was still a strange place on a day to day basis, she was in high spirits.

There was no warning; nothing out of the ordinary to signal that the moment was about to be spoiled. It happened like this:

Anna was happy, humming to herself. She had nearly finished putting away everything that her father had carried up from the cellar, and she was organizing jars of pomade inside the vanity drawer by scent, when she noticed that there was one out of place; a jar of hair oil. She picked it up and turned, intending to carry it over to the bookshelf, but something – a flash of silver in her peripheral vision – caused her to look back over her shoulder. She halted, mid-step.

There was a plain metal tray sitting on the vanity, and on it Anna saw several surgical instruments neatly laid out side by side, parallel to one another. There was an empty space in the middle. That was bad. That was the spot where the scalpel should be.

The room became hazy, seen through a drug induced fog. The vanity was gone – no, it had never been there in the first place. The house had never been there. With growing horror, Anna realized that she was still in the lab. She had always been in the lab. Her legs and arms felt heavy. She was tired – too tired to move – not quite tired enough to fall asleep. There was a persistent, stabbing pain in her chest keeping her aware of her surroundings. Masked faces hovered above her. If she looked down, Anna knew she would see gloved hands, cutting the flesh around her exsphere away, carefully making room for something else, another, smooth round sphere like the first only –

A loud crash brought Anna back to reality. She was in her family's house again, looking at her mother's good silver platter. Everything else had just been a bad dream.

At first she thought the noise had been caused by her father, making his usually early morning clatter in the kitchen. After a moment, however, she remembered that her father was downstairs, and then the feeling of something cold and slick running across the tops of her bare feet finally registered. The jar of oil that she had previously held in her hands now lay in shattered fragments across the shop floor. She was standing in a spreading puddle of dark liquid.

She had been dreaming standing up?

"Anna?!" Wendy emerged from the kitchen, wide-eyed and frightened. When she saw the mess on the floor, however, her expression melted into one of relief. "Oh, look at this mess. Did you cut yourself? Don't move! I _told _you to wear shoes while you were moving everything."

Anna was only half-listening to her mother. Her thoughts were fixed on the dark sphere embedded in her chest. She knew that it was going to make her sick, slowly but surely, but could it be causing her to lose her mind as well?

Wendy hurried back just as her husband emerged from the basement. Reginald took one look at Anna's face and set the mirror down.

"What happened?" he asked, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Anna reassured him, struggling to speak around the lump that had formed in her throat. "I was just a bit clumsy, that's all."

* * *

The first day of work both was a long and difficult one.

Upon seeing the sizable line up of customers waiting outside Anna's door in the morning, her father hadn't been able to refrain from making a jibe at his daughter's expense. "I always did get more customers when the neighbourhood boys thought you might be at home. Looks like you're still my lucky lady."

"Daaa-ad!" Anna had responded obligingly. It was an old joke.

If any of her father's customers had ever been attracted to her, Anna had enough self-awareness to recognize that this certainly would not be the case now. She had the distinct impression that a good number of them had come out of a sense of charity, and that the rest were there out of curiosity.

The reactions to Anna's appearance were varied, especially amongst those who were seeing her for the first time. One of the young men who came in – an old classmate – had been so startled that the rest of his visit had been a painfully awkward experience for both of them. From the way he kept his gaze fixed on anything but the woman cutting his hair for him, it was safe to assume that he was trying not to stare at her too openly. The two of them struggled through a few innocuous attempts at conversation, most of which revolved around what sort of haircut he wanted. But, to his credit, he did leave Anna a sizable tip before rushing out of the store.

In some ways, the other customers were worse. More than one came in looking for news of family members that had been taken in the same raid that Anna had been captured, and these had been particularly upsetting visits for everyone involved. In these situations, Anna had fallen back on the same excuse over and over again, "I was separated from the other prisoners, I have no idea what happened to any one else."

It was a blatant lie. In truth, Anna had only been separated from the others for a few months. But the idea of telling the truth was inconceivable to her. How could she be expected to reveal to one of her customers that she had seen his son beaten to death for directing a snide comment towards the wrong guard? How could she tell another young man that she had seen his sister looking up at her from the prison yard, watching in astonishment as Anna and a strange man sailed away on a flying machine?

Everybody seemed to know that Anna was holding out on them, and it made each encounter of the day that much worse. She was trying to be friendly, and welcoming, and appreciative towards everyone who came to her with their business, but by early in the afternoon she just felt hollow. She had wilted so visibly that her mother insisted on closing up shop hours before her shift should have finished.

"You just need more time to build up your strength," Wendy told her daughter, wrapping her up in a much needed hug. "You don't need to push yourself so hard, sweetheart, nobody expects you to be able to do everything all at once."

"I know, mom."

"You're just tired."

"Something like that."

* * *

The flood of customers began to subside within a few weeks, as her notoriety began to fade and the residents of town grew frustrated with her silence.

She still had a few regulars, though. These mainly consisted of customers who had also frequented the old shop. She was particularly amused by the return of one elderly man who came in every afternoon for a shave and managed to fall soundly asleep in his chair minutes after she had wrapped his face up in warm towels. A few of Anna's former classmates, boys and girls alike, stopped in to chat with her on occasion, and her old gambling buddies also made a habit of coming by in twos and threes.

These were always pleasant visits. They told her stories of what had transpired during her absence, and kept her up to date on their latest activities. They told her that the tavern had found an out-of-towner to take up her place as the resident faro dealer, but assured her that they preferred her company.

"Y'oughta go down one night and clean him out," one of her old mates, an older man named Richard, commented on one occasion while Anna carefully spread lather across his neck. "He never gets as much business as you did anyways; you could get your old job back, easy."

"You seem eager to get rid of him." Anna had found herself chuckling, "He doesn't let you win much, does he?"

"Ye say that like the game is gaffed."

The young woman had only been able to shake her head. Richard had always had an enthusiasm for cards, but not much talent for it. Any gambler with an ounce of common sense knew perfectly well that if the house was making a significant profit off of faro, it was almost certainly rigged.

"But really, you should play with us sometime." Richard continued, once Anna had finished with the brush. "I've heard more than a few people hoping you'd stop by for old times' sake."

Anna smiled at him.

"I'll think about it," she told him. She honestly missed putting her talents to good use. Eventually she would give it a try too… but right now…

"_Bitch!" a voice hissed. _

_Anna didn't quite manage to scoot back from the bars of her cell in time to avoid the foot that connected with her shoulder. An involuntary yelp of pain escaped her, and she was knocked flat on her back. The cards in her hands slipped out of her grip scattered across the floor. The sudden, violent spectacle earned a gasp from her cell mates, who drew back from the scene, leaving Anna to fend for themselves._

"_You cheated!"_

…right now she wasn't prepared to test her luck.

* * *

Anna's life had reached a relatively comfortable state of equilibrium when she opened up shop one morning to find Kratos Aurion standing on her doorstep, just as expressionless as she remembered him, but with significantly more grizzle on his chin.

The sight of the swordsman surprised her, and she froze, unable to decide how to react. Her first instinct was to slam the front door in his face, but then she worried about what would happen if he decided to force his way in. He was strong enough to succeed. Her parents were still sleeping in the master bedroom, but if she caused a commotion they would certainly wake up and come out to investigate. The neighbours might also get involved, and then they would be placed in danger as well. There was no telling what Kratos would do if someone attempted to cross his path. She couldn't even guess why the strange man would come to her home after so much time had passed.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, trying to sound more confident than she felt. It didn't work.

Kratos' response was more eloquent.

"I was informed that I could obtain a respectable haircut here. As no other customers were waiting outside, it seemed like the most convenient time to do so." When Anna only stared at him, he continued. "You do provide haircuts here, do you not? The yard matches the description that I was given."

"You're at the right place." Anna's heartbeat was loud in her ears. She remembered that she still kept his knife in her apron pocket, always on her person. If need be she could defend herself. "I'm just setting up shop now."

"Very well then," Kratos' tone was brisk. "I can wait."

Anna didn't want him to come into her house for a number of reasons, but she stepped back from the door. "You can wait inside," she told him.

He moved past her without any hesitation, as if he were completely unaware of the awkwardness of the situation. Anna felt that her home had been violated by his presence.

Taking a deep breath steel herself, Anna watched the spot where he had disappeared for a long moment, and then looked at the hinged sign resting next to her against the wall. On an ordinary day, she would set it up on the front lawn when she opened for the morning to draw in customers. Today, she decided against putting it out on display until Kratos was out of her house. As much as she hated the idea of being alone with him, she didn't think involving civilians was a good idea. If Kratos was after something, nobody in Luin would be able to stop him. She was alone.

_He's just another customer, _she thought. _If he wants anything, he would have acted by now. _

With this thought in mind, Anna began what felt like a death march back inside, following the path that her newest client had taken. The man in question had deposited his sword and shield in a corner of the room, but he was still standing when she got there, arms crossed against his chest.

"You can sit if you want," Anna told him. "I'm just going to go put on some hot water."

"I see," replied Kratos. Something about the way he said it made her wonder if it was his first time getting a haircut. If his current style was any indication, it was certainly possible.

Not waiting to see if he followed her instructions, Anna brushed past him into the kitchen, carefully lit a small fire inside of the wood stove, and set a large pot of water on the burner. When she returned to the shop floor, Kratos was sitting stiffly in the barber's chair.

Advancing towards him from behind, Anna sought out the man's eyes in the mirror. He met her gaze with calm assurance, urging her on. Tentatively, she reached out to brush the top of his head with her fingertips, running them lightly over his hair.

_Blood and thunder, _she thought, _we're really going to do this._

Gaining confidence, she ran her fingers through his hair a few times, testing the volume of it, and then lifted it away from his face to see what she had to work with.

"So what would you like?"

"It doesn't matter," said Kratos. "Something easy to maintain. Respectable."

"Respectable," Anna repeated. Kratos had used that word earlier too. It seemed like something a much older person would say, and it made her curious. What was he planning to do once he got his haircut? Run for mayor?

"Do you want to keep the length?" she asked, brushing those thoughts aside. He had basically given her free license to do whatever she wanted. In her own opinion, short hair was tidy and professional, but it was always best to ask about these things first.

"I trust your discretion. You are probably more familiar with current styles than I am."

"I suppose," said Anna, leaning over the chair to drape a smock over Kratos' shoulders. She was not really sure what to make of his statement. As far as she knew, the standard haircut in Sylvarant had not changed at all in over two hundred years. "Well, you probably want to get those bangs out of your eyes. They can't be helpful when you're in a swordfight."

"The length is inconsequential. My hair has never compromised my abilities." Perhaps it was only Anna's imagination, but she thought that his tone sound sulky.

Looking into the mirror, Anna began to feel a bit like a predatory animal stalking around her prey. It was a strange thing, to be in a position that forced Kratos to look up at her, and even stranger to watch herself hovering over him while he remained passive, allowing her to explore the contours of his neck with her hands as she gathered his hair into a queue. For the first time, it occurred to her that Kratos had, in a sense, placed himself at her mercy.

"We'll make it short, then," said Anna. She picked up her scissors from the vanity with one hand, holding Kratos' hair in a tail with the other. "Let's get this out of the way before we get started."

Anna took care of the extra hair with a few quick snips, and then she set about dampening the rest with a spray bottle of water. She worked efficiently, alternating between using a set of clippers and scissors. It was all very ordinary, very domestic. After a while she could almost forget that it was Kratos in the chair, and not a perfectly ordinary stranger.

"Is this for a special occasion?" she posed the question casually, but she was curious. For all she knew, the man was on his way to visit his mother; it wasn't as if he had just dropped from space.

"Not particularly," said Kratos. "I am planning to meet with a… certain official this afternoon."

"So you want to look presentable," Anna surmised. It seemed unwise to press for more information.

"Yes." He did not elaborate any further.

"You'll need a shave, then." Anna's statement met no argument, so when she finished with Kratos' hair (a damn fine job, if she did say so herself) she excused herself and returned to the kitchen. The water that she had set out on the stove was simmering already, so Anna quickly rolled up a towel, dunked it into the pot, wrung it out, and then set it on a plate, careful to avoid burning her hands.

Usually customers fidgeted when left alone, but when Anna returned, Kratos was motionless in his seat, still in the same statuesque position as before. She came up alongside him, setting the plate down on the vanity to free her hands. His back, she had noticed, did not touch the chair's support, but when she operated the hand crank on the side to make it recline, he leaned back compliantly, settling into a more relaxed position.

If standing over Kratos been an odd experience while he was sitting down, having him on his back was surreal.

"I'm going to have to trim some of this first," she commented, "you really let it get messy."

"I didn't have much choice," Kratos' tone was scathing, "A young woman ran off with my best knife and I haven't had time to replace it."

"You shouldn't have been shaving with something like that, anyways." The words popped out of Anna's mouth before she could stop herself, and she felt her face growing hot with embarrassment. It sounded childish, even to her ears. Kratos seemed to think so too, and did not deign to respond.

To avoid any further embarrassment, Anna quickly finished trimming the man's beard and practically threw the steamy towel over his face, draping it around his chin and then folding it up over his cheeks and eyes. Even Kratos couldn't manage to look dignified with only his nose poking out of a nest of damp white cloth. That took a bit of the edge off.

Anna pressed the towel into skin and then beat another hasty retreat into the kitchen. There, she took a few minutes to regroup. When she returned, she brought a brush and a mug of warm lather with her.

If Kratos found the hot towel relaxing, he didn't show it. He looked keen and awake (if slightly flushed from the heat) when she peeled back the cloth to reveal his face. He watched with interest as she worked the lather into his beard, moving her brush in a firm, circular motion over his cheeks.

"Could you turn your head to the side?" Anna asked, as much to get his eyes off her as anything else. The man complied without question, tilting his head to stare off in the direction opposite her.

The straight razor was long and thin, a small thing, but deadly. Those in the business affectionately referred to it as a "cut-throat," and the label had never struck Anna as more true, more plausible, than it did when her blade first swept across Kratos' skin, gently tracing its way down to his neck. She paused then.

It would be so easy. Her family would never understand it, of course, but there would be one less half-elf for the world to worry about.

"Why did you do it?" The question that had been on her mind since her escape suddenly seemed so very easy to voice out loud.

Kratos did not so much as look at her. "Why did I do what?"

"Why did you help me escape the ranch?" she asked. "I thought you were after the Angelus project…"

Kratos swallowed, and Anna watched with sick fascination as his adam's apple bobbed up and down, pressing his skin dangerously close to her blade.

"I have no use for the Angelus project," he said. His voice was steady. "My purpose was merely to impede Kvar's progress."

It was a simple story, and a completely plausible one at that. Anna knew deep down that she was being unreasonable, but she couldn't seem to put the razor aside. She couldn't let it go.

"Why?" she pressed him. "What does it do?"

The man's eyelids fluttered closed, as if in resignation. "Does it really matter?"

"_Of course it matters!" _She had not intended to raise her voice, but it came out higher and louder than she had anticipated. _"I'm stuck with this thing!"_

A peculiar thing happened then. Kratos' eyes opened, and he blinked, and for the first time since Anna had first seen him, he looked genuinely surprised. Lost.

"I…" he couldn't seem to find the words. "I'm sorry. I didn't-"

"Anna!"

Anna felt a cool hand cover hers, and pull at it gently, guiding the straight razor away from the man in the chair. When she looked up, she saw that her mother was standing in front of her, pale and terrified. Wendy pried the straight-razor out of Anna's hands, babbling the whole time. She was saying meaningless, maternal things that might have been soothing if not for the near-hysterical edge to her voice.

"Anna, sweetheart, you… you need to go lie down, alright? I'll finish up here."

"Mom I-"

"Go to the other room, Anna, _please_."

The sight of her mother's stricken face was enough to make Anna flee the room. She did not – could not – stop to look at Kratos as she went. Her mother was right, she needed to lie down. She was breathing hard, her heart was pounding rapidly in her chest, and she felt ill, sick with self-loathing and apprehension.

_The exsphere,_ she thought, _it has to be the exsphere making me act this way._

Somehow, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe it.


	7. Meetings

_A/N: For those who read the last chapter when it was first posted, please note that I have made a minor edit to keep the layout of Anna's house consistent. Anna's house now only has one floor above ground and a basement cellar. _

_I don't really remember the layout of Luin and had to do some guesswork about the stuff I couldn't find game footage for, so some parts are a little less descriptive. I may go back add in some more visuals to this chapter in the future, but for now, I hope you enjoy it._

* * *

**Dehumanization**

The summer was just hot enough to make the cool, shadowy atmosphere of the Irving's underground cellar seem appealing, and it was Anna's habit to seek shelter there when she needed privacy. Although the sitting room had originally been designated as her makeshift sleep quarters, the young refugee had developed a habit of migrating underground on humid, stuffy nights. Most of her possessions had been stored down there anyways, because it was too dangerous to keep her things on the main floor, where they might be seen.

Fortunately, the cellar was spacious enough to accommodate Anna and all of her belongings with room to spare. She appropriated a corner near the stairs in which to set up a cot, and it wasn't long before a small bedside table, a lantern, and a number of old candlesticks became incorporated into the peculiar little nest as well. Her mother was scandalized by the arrangement at first, but after a few weeks she gave up on persuading her daughter to come back upstairs, and compromised by laying down a few throw rugs to make the place seem as homey as possible.

It was the perfect hiding place. The trapdoor to the cellar was easy to conceal, and there was enough space below ground for Anna to wait out any danger in relative comfort. As a bedroom, however, the cellar was far from ideal. As Anna's parents used the room for storage, it was often necessary for them to venture in and out for tools, ingredients and other odds and ends. The room was not wholly Anna's, and as a result her parents were both less inclined to respect the sanctity of it when the door was closed.

The morning after her encounter with Kratos, Anna was awake too early, but she had decided to remain in bed until she could be sure that her parents were out of the house.

Her exsphere was warm, causing the skin around it to redden and itch. It had begun to heat up on it's own in the middle of the night, a curious prickle that had bloomed into a fierce, insistent burning sensation. It wasn't as bad now, and Anna with a book to distract her, she was able to ignore it without too much struggle.

Anna's reading was interrupted when she heard the door above being thrown open and heavy footsteps descending down the creaky wooden stairs.

_Another talk, _she thought, woefully. Anna set down her book and rolled towards the wall, checking discreetly to make sure that her nightgown fully covered the inflamed skin on her chest. It did. She wished the oil lamp on the table was not burning; if it weren't there to give her away, she could have feigned sleep.

Moments later, the end of the mattress dipped down under a heavy weight near her feet. The presence itself was not unexpected, but Anna had not anticipated how furious the intrusion would make her feel. She was tired of being monitored all the time; she'd had enough of that at the Human Ranch. It was an unfair to get angry at her mother – she only wanted to help – but knowing this did nothing to stave off the bitterness in her heart. It only made her feel more frustrated. More trapped.

"For the last time, _mother_," she snapped, before the other woman could get started. "I am not going. I only get one day off all week, and I'm not going to spend half of it listening to some stupid sermon."

The voice that answered was not her mother's.

"I'm sorry you feel that way. It would break Wendy's heart to hear you talking like that."

Anna did not turn, but she raised her head to look at the wall. In the flickering light of the lantern, she saw Reginald Irving's silhouette, a shifting, dark figure stooped over her own shadow. His body was turned towards her, and she could tell at a glance that he had assumed his favourite position for conducting serious discussions. He sat in a hunched position, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows propped on his knees and his hands laced together in front of him.

"Did she send you to talk to me?"

"No, I came here by myself," he assured her. "I hear you raised your voice to one of your customers yesterday. Your mother thought… Well, do you want to give me your side of the story?"

"There's nothing to talk about," Anna shook her head, redirecting her attention to the wall. "It was nothing."

"You've been moping down here since yesterday. Did that young man from yesterday do something to hurt you, or…?"

Anna recognized the tone from her teenage years, when her father would ask her about boys from school, and older men she encountered at her job. Now, however, the hanging question was a much more profound one than it had been in times past.

She shifted and sat up properly so that she and her father were level with each other, eye to eye.

"No he didn't. He didn't do anything wrong." Anna had a bad feeling that her father might seek a confrontation if she wasn't firm with him. "And he certainly never touched me, if that's what you're thinking."

Reginald looked back at her, and waited.

"It was just a little argument," Anna insisted, unable to leave off while her lies were still small and white. "Honestly, he… he just said something about Desians that brought up some bad memories. It was a stupid thing to get upset about."

Reginald let out a mighty sigh. Anna could not tell if it was relief or resignation, but she knew that the discussion was over for the time being.

"Alright. But you know you can tell me anything."

"I know."

"And if you don't feel comfortable talking to me, you could always try talking to the pastor."

Anna bit back a groan. Her mother had been trying to convince her to go to church for several weeks already, and the incident with Kratos had inspired her to redouble her efforts. Now it seemed her father had joined in the conspiracy.

"I really, reeeally don't want to go, dad," she told him.

"Nobody's forcing you," he said. "But it would mean a lot to your mother if you gave it a try. It's important to her."

"I've noticed. What happened anyways? It wasn't like this before."

There was a lengthy pause, as Reginald composed his answer.

"Your mother… in many ways, she's been taking care of me over the last year. It hasn't been easy on her, you know. First she lost you, and then I lost my job, too. It was touch and go for us for a few months. Sometimes it still is."

Another pause, this one not quite as long as the first.

"Wendy has always been a strong woman," he said. "I know that you find her overbearing sometimes – there are certainly times when I think so too – but she's done a lot for me since you left. I had work here and there, but when it comes down to it, she was really the one making ends meet. She's always had better financial sense than me, and goddess knows that woman can barter. I'm sure she resented me sometimes, but she still took care of me.

"But we were in a mess, and some of our problems were bigger than Wendy could handle by herself. Having Martel to lean on, sometimes… I think she needed that. Prayer probably helped her feel like she had some control over the things that she couldn't do anything about. Mostly, she prayed for your safety. It gave her a way of taking care of you, even when you were gone."

Anna was holding her pillow to her chest. Her exsphere was heating up again, and this time she felt like it was trembling, almost like it was feeding off of her nervous energy. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry," said Reginald. "I just thought you should know. Between you and me, up until now, I only went to church for Wendy's sake."

"Until now?"

Her father gave a soft smile. "Well, Martel did answer both of our prayers didn't she?"

Anna felt sick to her stomach. She didn't know if it was the exsphere or her guilt that brought it on. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

"If you don't go soon, you're going to be late," she said.

Instead of arguing, Reginald simply clapped his hands to his knees and straightened up into a standing position.

"Well, if you change your mind…"

"I know."

"Just promise me you won't spend the whole morning sulking down here in the dark, okay? I worry about you."

"Sure."

Reginald bent down to give Anna a quick hug. She did not think that he had left the house without doing so even one time since her return, and a second wave of powerful, guilt-induced nausea gripped her stomach.

After her father's departure, Anna tried to return to her book, but she couldn't quite manage it. Her mind was being pulled in so many directions that she was unable to digest the words on the page, or even find the place where she had left off. Instead of reading, she simply found herself staring at the page and listening to her parents' movements upstairs until, at last, the sound of the front door opening and closing reached her ears.

The house was silent.

Anna sat in bed, trying to figure out what she was going to do with herself for the rest of the day. There was laundry to do, and other chores. She could go out instead, but there was really no where to go. None of the vendors would be out today, and most of her friends would be in church by now. None of the options struck her as being terribly interesting, and she found it difficult to focus. Her brain kept looping back to her encounter with Kratos Aurion the day before.

Something in the back of Anna's mind – survival instinct perhaps – told her that she needed to keep busy, and stop thinking about things that would make her feel anxious. Without any real goal in mind, Anna rolled out of bed and began to prepare for the day. She picked up her good dress from her collection of belongings – and the knife, of course, she never went anywhere without it – put out the lantern, and tramped up the rickety wooden staircase to the main floor, where the light would be better.

Upstairs she washed and dressed, and found herself thinking of Kratos again. Was he still in town? Anna thought he probably was, if he had been planning to meet with someone yesterday afternoon. She doubted that he was acquainted with any of the locals, so he was probably staying at the local tavern.

Anna pushed the thought back, before it could lead anywhere that would make her upset again.

Upstairs, in her parent's bedroom, Anna bathed in the metal washbasin, dried off, and then slipped into the slim, white sundress that Maria had given her. With pale blue embroidery bordering the collar, and a matching sash, it made her feel slightly overdressed, but everything else in her collection was old and second-hand. The dress made Anna feel a little bit pretty again. Not quite beautiful, but it gave her a feminine appearance, despite her short hair and pale, gaunt features. The neckline was also high enough to conceal her exsphere; a special consideration on the part of the seamstress.

Anna tucked Kratos' knife into pale blue fabric wrapped around her waist, and thought, _I was going to kill him yesterday. _It sent a ripple of uneasiness through her and, with it, a flare of warmth from her exsphere.

There it was: the thought that she had been trying to repress all morning. Ordinarily, Anna prided herself on being calm and level-headed, but she was beginning to doubt her ability to think objectively. Would a normal, rational person want to kill the man who had rescued her from a hellish prison? Anna did not think so. Anna had heard stories about warriors who went into combat and came back unstable, haunted by the past, and she was beginning to worry that she was not fit to carry a weapon, or even to live with her family.

Ever since returning to Luin, Anna had been stagnating, waiting to die, and she hated herself for it. She did not want to spend the last years of her life wasting away in terrified submission. Anna knew she needed to act now, while her resolve was still strong. She needed to do _something_ that would help her move forward with her life while she still could.

Anna went to the front door and stepped into her white linen shoes, cursing herself the whole time. She never wanted to see Kratos again, but she had already determined the best course of action a long time ago.

* * *

Kratos was not at the inn, as she had expected, but a few quick inquiries revealed that he had not yet checked out of his room, either. The innkeeper's daughter, Linda, a thin young woman with round, rosy cheeks, had been all too happy to help. No surprise there; Linda was a renowned gossip, and she was openly curious about Anna's connection to the strange man.

"Awfully _mysterious_, isn't he?" Linda asked, small bow-shaped lips curling up into a know-it-all grin. She was watching Anna's reaction, digging for information.

"That's one way of putting it.".

"I'll say. He caused quite the commotion when he came into town yesterday. You should see the cr-

"Do you have any idea where he might have gone?" Anna cut across the other woman's chatter before it turned to sex, as it always did. She had no desire to learn about the Kratos' night-time visitors. "Sorry Linda, I'd love to chat, but I'm in a bit of a hurry this morning."

"Well he didn't say two words about it _to me_, but at this time of day I'd say he probably went to church." The innkeeper's daughter smiled, as if she already knew everything there was to know about the situation. "You could wait for him here, if you like."

"No. Thank you."

"Oh it's no trouble, you know." _What's a little favour between us girls, right?_ "If you wanted to speak to him alone I could let you into his room. I'm _sure _he wouldn't mind."

Anna had half-expected Linda to say something like this, although she wasn't really sure what to make of it. Sometimes it was hard to tell if the other woman was teasing or if she honestly believed that she was making a helpful suggestion.

Anna could only imagine how Kratos would react if he came back to his room and found the skeletal-looking woman who had nearly sliced his throat open the day before waiting inside.

"That's okay," she said. "Thanks for the tip."

"Anna!" Linda's urgent tone made Anna pause half-way to the door. "Before you go, mum was wondering… I know you've taken up your father's business, but have you thought of taking up with us again?"

"I thought you had a new faro dealer already," said Anna. Her words provoked a sharp laugh.

"He's alright," she said. "But he doesn't bring in the business like you did. You were a novelty."

"I don't know," said Anna. She missed her old job sometimes, but she felt strangely hesitant to commit to taking on the job.

"Well, think about it, alright? But don't let it get out that I asked you."

"I will," Anna promised, hand on the door handle. "It was nice talking to you Linda." She was surprised at how true her statement felt.

"Good luck finding your mercenary!"

The door swung shut behind Anna before she could ask, _What mercenary? _But when she stopped to think about it, the answer was obvious. _Mercenary. _She wondered why she had not thought of it before.

* * *

Kratos had, in fact, gone to church, just as Linda had surmised. He had not, however, entered the building.

Anna found him outside, standing a few paces away from the entrance of the plain, white washed building. He was standing stock still, with his arms folded across his chest. Anna got the sense that he had been in that position for a great deal of time, although nothing in his bearing suggested that he was fatigued. He seemed to be waiting, or perhaps debating over whether or not to go inside. Anna thought she understood his hesitation. The church of Martel did not look kindly upon half-elves.

The young woman approached slowly, from the front, to ensure that the man saw her coming. She had put a lot of thought into what she would say when she got there, how she would explain the events of the day before and convince him to hear her out. All of her planning flew out the window when she saw him.

Anna forgot everything that she had planned to say, and after struggling with words for a moment, all she managed to produce was a lame, "Hi."

"…Hi." Kratos looked a little bit surprised.

"You, uh, you forgot this." Anna could feel her face burning up, and her exsphere was hot now. She felt like a fistful of chilli pepper seeds had been lodged in her chest, and she had to suppress the urge to scratch at her skin. Her hands were shaking, and she fumbled to remove the knife she had woven through the sash at her waist.

Kratos couldn't have missed her struggles, but out of politeness (or perhaps indifference) he pretended that he had not noticed.

"Thank you. That's-" he paused when she drew the knife and offered it to him, point first. "What happened to the sheath?"

Anna faltered, wishing that Kratos would just take the knife from her, before she lost her nerve. She wondered if he had any idea how difficult it had been for her to come here and hand over her only weapon. Kratos only sighed.

"It doesn't matter," he put a hand out, to refuse her offering. "You should keep it. Consider it an apology."

"What? Why?" Anna had never imagined the conversation turning in this direction. She remembered, abruptly, that the whole point of looking for him had been to tell him that _she _was sorry. Kratos was hijacking her plan.

"I assumed that you had already removed the Angelus project on your own. It was thoughtless of me."

"I can't remove it," she told him. "One person tried while we were in the holding cells, and everyone in his unit died. I heard it happen from down the hall."

"You could safely contain the exsphere if you used a key crest," Kratos told her.

It was nothing that Anna didn't know. She had seen the key crests that Desians used, even heard them discussed from time to time. But even if she had been able to use one, the exsphere mounts that Desians used had to be applied before the exsphere was attached to the skin.

"Some key crests can be worn as jewellery," Kratos continued, as if he had read her mind. "It isn't always necessary to attach the crest to the exsphere."

"If that's true, then where can I get one?" Anna suddenly felt like she could storm a Desian stronghold if she had to. Anything was better than dying.

"Almost any dwarf would be able to make one for you, if provided with the necessary materials." Kratos waved his hand dismissively, as if it were that simple.

Impossible.

Anna knew that she should say something, but she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She felt tears forming in her eyes, so she closed them, and forced herself to take a long, slow breath. She repeated her numbers in her head, determined not to cry in front of Kratos again.

"That… was not very helpful to you?" Kratos surmised. With her eyes shut, Anna could not tell if he was genuinely confused by her reaction or if he was simply having her on.

After a moment, the young woman opened her eyes again, blinking rapidly. The threat of tears had passed, and she was in control again.

"Where am I supposed to find a dwarf?" Much to her chagrin, her voice came out sounding slightly choked. "I thought the last of them died out during the Sylvaranti Dynasty."

Kratos did not look surprised, exactly, but he took a beat longer than he should have to answer her response, and when he did, he seemed to be talking more to himself than to her.

"I see. I did not realize that the situation here had deteriorated so severely. If that is the case, then Moria may be the only independent stronghold left."

"Moria? Where is that?"

Kratos shook his head, disappointing her yet again.

"I don't know."

Anna could not think of a correct response to his statement. Part of her wanted to shake him and yell in his face, _'Then why did you get my hopes up!?'_ but it was hard to get angry. She did not sense any malicious intent behind his words, no matter how they had affected her.

Kratos began to speak again, strangely hesitant. "I might—

"Anna! Anna Irving!"

Anna turned to see Henry, one of the local boys, barreling towards her. A bright sheen of sweat shone across his face and neck, and he was slightly red in the face.

"I've – I've been looking everywhere!" he panted.

"Desians?" Anna demanded.

Henry was a member of the watch, a secret initiative carried out by the citizens of Luin in order to monitor Desian activity. Although the Desians would not allow the townspeople to have an official militia, and a bell tower was out of the question, the watch operated quietly, and their word-of-mouth network provided the townspeople with reasonably quick warnings when danger was afoot.

"Over a score of them, coming from southeast this time! Not enough for a raid, but… Anna you have to hide!"

"I know." Anna heard Kratos 'humph' quite emphatically behind her, and turned towards him. "You should come with me. You'll be safer underground than at the inn."

Kratos shook his head. "Not without Noishe. If they spot him, they'll know that I'm here."

"Your companion?" She asked, surprised. Linda had not mentioned a roommate staying at the inn, but then, Anna hadn't given her much of a chance. "Where is he?"

"The shed out back, behind the inn," Kratos said quickly, and if Anna had not been in a hurry she might have found his answer a bit strange.

"You've got five minutes," Henry told them. To Anna he said, "Tillman is waiting at your house to cover the door. I'm going on ahead to warn the others."

"Okay. Good luck."

Henry sped into the church, without further discussion, and Anna looked at Kratos again.

"Do you remember where my house is?" she asked.

"Yes, I do."

"Go find your friend," she told Kratos. "I'll see you there."

* * *

Had more than a handful of citizens been on the streets that fateful day, it is entirely possible that a legend would have been born, and the name Kratos Aurion would have been repeated to children in the stuff of fairy tales for generations to come. As it was, the few witnesses who were privy to the man's spectacular feat of strength and speed were declared heretics and rabble-rousers by the church. Their stories were dismissed outright by the general public, and, in short order, the mysterious traveling mercenary was all but forgotten in the minds of the townspeople.

Anna was waiting on the porch step of her family's home, staring off into the distance, when she recognized it; a furry green and white creature with bat-like ears, a monster big enough to ride like a dragon. It was only when it drew closer that she noticed the tall figure bowed underneath its weight.

Kratos was moving at an astounding pace, the gargantuan dog-creature draped over his shoulders like a garish, oversized fur coat. His face and arms were almost entirely hidden by legs and long, shaggy fur, but Anna knew, at a glance, that it had to be him. There was only one person who could do something so outrageous and some how convey such an air of nonchalance at the same time.

Behind her, Tillman had frozen in her doorway. "Is that real?" she heard him ask.

"I guess it is," Anna responded. Somehow, she could not muster up much surprise.

* * *

_A/N: _

_Not my best work. Too much dialogue, maybe._

_My dog jumped off a partition in the park and hurt his leg a few weeks ago. He's sixty pounds, you guys. I really could have used some super angel strength. _;_;

_A big thank you to __**Disturbo**__, who made the greatest Kratos & Noishe picture the world has ever seen, and sent me a link. It's pretty epic. Every time I look at it, I imagine Kratos and Noishe as teenagers smoking their first bong together. They are such bros.  
_


	8. The Deal

**Dehumanization**

Everyone expected Anna to panic the first time they sealed her underground, and they had ushered her into the cellar with sad, sympathetic eyes.

'_I know how hard it must be,'_ her mother had told her, _'being locked up, after everything you've been through.'_

Being locked up did not frighten Anna, former prisoner or not. Solitary had, at least, been a safe place in the Human Ranch, even if it had also been maddeningly dull. It was better than being poked and prodded with needles and Martel-only-knew-what-else. Walls were secure; unlike prison bars, which left you exposed on all sides. So when the cellar door closed with a heavy thud and the room was plunged into darkness, she didn't worry. The sound of a heavy chest of drawers scraping against the wooden planks above didn't do much to alarm her either. Being sealed up alone with several years worth of preserves and candlesticks was kind of okay in her book. Most of the time, Anna spent the wait curled up in bed, reading by candlelight.

This time, however, she was not alone, and she found herself seated on the cold floor. Kratos had given her cot to his giant, injured dog-monster, and he behaved in an exasperated manner when she questioned him about it.

"He's a _protozoan_," he told her. Anna watched him in the flickering candlelight of the lantern, fascinated, as the strange man handled the protozoan with all the tenderness of mother carrying a baby. A really, really _big _baby. He lowered the enormous creature down onto the cot with excruciating slowness, until he could be certain that the groaning structure would hold its weight. Apparently satisfied, he turned back to Anna with a disdainful expression. "Isn't there anyone left who knows a protozoan when they see one?"

Anna decided that the question did not merit a response, and merely shrugged her shoulders at him. It was the second time that Kratos had described creatures of legend as if he had seen them himself, and she was beginning to think he might be telling the truth. Half-elves could survive for hundreds of years; perhaps Kratos was much older than she had originally supposed. The man sighed and shook his head in a manner that did not suit his young features, almost as if he were thinking to himself, '_Kids today! With their loud instruments and their tavern shenanigans!' _It was hardly enough evidence to prop up Anna's theory, but it still made her feel justified in her musings.

They both went quiet for some time after that, listening for footsteps above, or any other sign that the Desians had discovered their hiding place. Anna looked at Noishe, curled up on her bed, with his big, shaggy chin planted flat on the mattress between his two front paws. His brow was furrowed, as if in worry, and his large brown eyes darted back and forth, wide enough to expose the white at the edges. With his ears turned back, in a submissive position, he really did look like a dog. He could even pass for a half-breed; it wasn't unheard of for stray dogs to mate with monsters out on the plains. It was sort of… cute.

"Can I- uh…"

Kratos and Noishe both perked up at the same time (although, to his credit, Kratos did so much more subtly than his furry companion.)

"Yes?"

"Never mind," Anna said quickly, "it was a stupid question."

Noishe let out a high pitched whine and rolled over onto his back, exposing his belly and causing the metal structure of the cot to screech in protest. His mouth fell opened and his tongue lolled out the side, revealing two rows of startlingly white jagged teeth. The effect was, at once, endearing and horrifying. Anna (who had been thinking that she might try scratching Noishe behind the ears) decided that she had been right to withdraw her earlier question.

"Noishe," Kratos began, in a sharp, warning tone, "what have I told you about your behaviour in public?"

The teeth disappeared behind Noishe's lips, and the creature made an apologetic noise.

"Thank you."

It would have been comical if Anna had not been so frantic with anxiety. Her exsphere was hot now, and it was _moving,_ pulsing in her breastbone like a second heartbeat. It seemed to Anna that it was making her heart bang harder, pumping nervous energy through her whole body. She had to resist the urge to get up and move around in an attempt to work the adrenaline out of her system.

A series of thumping noises above alerted the occupants of the cellar to activity on the floor above, and it wasn't long before they heard the sound of muffled voices over head, raised in anger. Anna was on her feet in a heartbeat, straining to hear the words. She recognized Tillman's voice, raised in anger, and there were at least two more that she couldn't identify, both of them loud and masculine. It sounded like there was an argument going on.

"Don't worry. They're just civilians. I doubt the Desians have managed to find this place." Kratos stated.

Anna frowned.

"Are you sure?" she asked. Kratos nodded, dead set. She decided to give him the benefit of the doubt; if he intended to deceive her, it was far too late to get out of harm's way.

"Well, they shouldn't be here. They're drawing too much attention to the building."

She picked up the lantern from the bedside table and moved up the cellar steps as quietly as she could, pressing her ear to the base of the trapdoor. Between the door and the voices speaking over one another on the other side, she could only catch snatches here and there, but what she could make out was enough to make her blood run cold, and her exsphere burn even hotter than before.

"—smoke out—wanted criminal—must be—"

"—just children, Tillman!"

"—even consider a trade?! I promised—"

"—one woman above the whole town!"

Anna decided that she had had enough of listening, and began to push up on the trapdoor, straining against the heavy weight of the chest of drawers that the watch had used to conceal it. When it refused to budge, she banged the ceiling twice with her fist, calling up to the occupants of the floor above.

"Hey! Let me up!"

The argument upstairs continued, unabated. Perhaps they had not heard her. Anna raised her fist to try again.

"Anna," Kratos's voice came from behind, disturbingly close to her ear. Warm fingers closed around her elbow – bare skin on bare skin – and suddenly her breath went out of her. Her exsphere suddenly released a flare of heat that travelled through her entire body, spreading from her chest into her arms and all the way down to her fingertips in a terrifying, sickening wave. "There's no need-"

"Don't touch me!"

Anna moved without thinking, and whatever Kratos had been about to say was lost when she wrenched out of his grip, twisting to lash out with her free hand. The lantern she had been holding slipped out of her grip and hit the steps with a clatter, and the light winked out. Wrapped in darkness, Anna heard Kratos grunt in surprise, and then there was an awful, thundering noise, like a sack of potatoes being emptied into a barrel, followed by a sharp crack. Noishe yelped and whined in dismay. And upstairs, everyone was still shouting.

An exhilarating rush coursed through the former prisoner's body, followed shortly by a slow, penetrating sense of guilt and dread. She had not meant to strike out of Kratos, and she certainly had not anticipated the sudden surge of strength that had been granted by her exsphere. Her skin was tingling. She felt too large for her body, a towering monster unfit for human society.

"Kratos?" she ventured, squinting fruitlessly down the stairs. "Are you okay?"

There was no answer, and it was so dark that Anna could not have seen a hand in front of her face. She tried to listen for his breathing, but all she heard were the voices from upstairs, and a heavy, panting noise emanating from the corner of the room that Noishe occupied. She tried his name again, and again there was no answer.

A series of horrible scenarios raced through her mind. Had he broken his neck? Cracked his skull open? Anna still wanted to know what was happening upstairs - she felt certain that she would be able to open the cellar door with her new found strength, regardless of what the watch had piled on top of it – but she couldn't just leave, when Kratos might be bleeding to death right at her feet and it was all her fault.

The cellar staircase had no railing, and the sudden rush of energy from her exsphere had left her feeling slightly lightheaded, so the young woman sat down on the steps and half-slid her way down to the floor, lowering herself down the treads, feet first. On the last step, her foot bumped against something hard with sharp ridges. Upon further investigation, she determined that it was the sole of one of Kratos' boots, and lowered herself the rest of the way down the steps to confirm her discovery with her hands. Her touch was feather-light; she did not want to cause any more damage than she already had.

"Kratos?" Anna shook the boot gently, hoping to rouse him. Still, he did not respond. She tried to figure out if she had him by his left or right foot by touch, but boot was squarish in shape and cased by some sort of metal covering, making it impossible to locate the man's instep. With a heightened sense of awareness, Anna brushed the man's ankle with her fingertips, tracing them along the muscles of his calf until she encountered his kneecap. It was hard to be certain, but she thought she had his left leg.

Noishe barked. Anna jumped at the sound and snatched her hand back. She felt hot with embarrassment, and her heart fluttered as if she had just been caught in the middle of an incriminating act. It took her several moments to calm down, and for the absurdity of the situation to strike her. It was just his leg.

When she was sure that Noishe was not going to get up off the cot and come rushing to Kratos' aid, the young woman shuffled forward on her knees until she estimated that she was alongside Kratos' chest, and then stretched a hand out to check. She had miscalculated, and her palm landed on his abdomen instead. Anna adjusted quickly, sliding her hand up in search of the man's heart beat. She patted around fruitlessly for a few moments, intensely self-conscious, before she found the reassuring rhythm of his heartbeat, and finally confirmed the steady rise and fall of his chest.

"I think he's okay, Noishe," said Anna, greatly relieved. Noishe whined. He obviously did not agree with her prognosis.

Anna was just standing up again when the protozoan hobbled over to her side, whining piteously at her. Without any illumination Anna could not see him, but he sat down so close to her that she could feel his breath on her knees, causing her skirts to billow out behind her as if caught in a warm breeze. She nearly shrieked when she felt a sharp tug at the hem of her skirt, pulling her back down to her knees.

Noishe let go of her dress and whined, and Anna heard him snuffling about Kratos' prone figure, licking his face and hands in a worried manner. His whines grew higher in pitch, and more persistent.

"Alright, alright," said Anna, falling into Kratos' habit of conversing with the strange beast as if it could understand human speech. (Absurd!) "I'll check again."

Anna wasn't entirely sure if she was doing it for her own peace of mind, or if she earnestly believed that the protozoan was making a request, but her hands found their way to Kratos' face, regardless. She cupped the unconscious man's face between her palms and worked her fingers up into his hair, feeling for injuries this time. Near the crown of his skull, her fingertips discovered a tear in the flesh of his scalp and a patch of warm, sticky wetness. The fear she had felt earlier tugged at her again.

"Okay," Anna said out loud. "I'm going to need help for this. I think I'm going to need a doctor." She relinquished her hold on Kratos as gently as she could and stood, wiping her hands on the front of her dress.

She took the steps two by two, and slammed her hands against the trapdoor in the ceiling. It just popped open with a booming crash, and Anna heard cries of dismay on the floor above as people scrambled to avoid the heavy chest of drawers that she had upended in opening the door. Anna could only imagine their surprise when a ninety-pound girl emerged from below – surely they had been expecting someone or something bigger, more frightening. Anna felt hugely tall and hugely powerful. She felt like she could do anything.

"What happened to your shirt?"

"There's a man downstairs who needs a doctor," said Anna, ignoring the speaker and gesturing towards the trapdoor. "Could somebody get… Dr. Mueller...?"

For the first time, Anna took in the odd assortment of townspeople who had gathered in her family's house. Her father was there, along with several members of the watch and a few of her old faro buddies, and they seemed to have formed a protective circle around Anna's hiding place. The rest of the group, nearly a dozen in all, consisted of individuals that Anna was somewhat less familiar, including Mueller, the local physician. She didn't see her mother anywhere.

"The Desians have taken several children hostage, and they've demanded that we turn you over," it was Henry speaking, and Anna was surprised to notice that he was in the front hall, separate from most of the town watch. It was like an invisible dam had been broken, and everyone in the room began bickering at once.

"Don't listen to a word of it, love," her father told her, raising his voice to be heard over the din. "You just go back downstairs."

Anna ignored him, and nudged her way past the men guarding the cellar – or at least that's what it felt like to her. When she pushed Richard he stumbled to the ground, looking up at her in amazement. Anna couldn't meet his eyes.

For all of their convictions, none of the other townspeople attempted to lay a hand on her when she pressed into the crowd. Perhaps they felt guilty, or perhaps they simply lacked the nerve to do what they had come here to do. Whatever their reasons, Anna was glad. She was wound like a spring, clenching her fists to her sides. If someone surprised her here, the way that Kratos had, she did not trust herself not to react as she had before.

Mueller looked strangely unimpassioned amidst his peers, and looked at the young woman with a quiet, sorrowful expression. "I'm sorry, Anna," he told her, when she drew up to them. "I had to tell them."

Anna didn't need to ask what Mueller had told the crowd. He only knew one secret worth keeping: the consequences of wearing an exsphere. The worst of it was, she could see where he was coming from. It would have been insanity to choose the safety of an already dying woman over the lives of innocent children.

"My parents?"

"They know."

"It's okay," she said. She was angry, but there was no use for that, now. "It would have turned out the same either way."

"I'll go help your friend downstairs."

"Right," said Anna, bemused by his choice of words. She did not think Kratos would think of her as much of a friend after being knocked down a flight of stairs. "There are candles in the kitchen next to the stove, and when you go downstairs don't let the dog scare you."

Mueller looked insulted. "Of course not. I do veterinary work too, you know. I like to think I have some experience handling animals."

Anna watched him shuffle off in search of the candles she had indicated. She considered warning him that it was a really_ really _big dog, but decided against it. He deserved a bit of a scare after so blatantly casting aside his policies of doctor-patient confidentiality.

She turned back to the crowd in her house.

"Where are they?" Anna demanded. "Where are these Desians?"

The people in the house became a waving, spilling out the front door onto the cobblestone street with Anna in tow, somehow leading the procession at the same time. They swept past Anna's mother, sitting on the porch step with her head in her hands, and Anna heard the other woman call out as they passed. Anna didn't answer. There was too much to say, too much to apologize for. Instead, she faced forward, marched west to meet her destiny.

She thought, _'If the Desians try to take me back to the Ranch, I'll just rip out my exsphere and die.'_

One thing was certain: Anna was never going to be anyone's prisoner ever again.

* * *

_A/N: Presea has super strength, and she was involved in the Angelus project (or something like it.) It stands to reason that Anna would too. I rest my case._

_Thanks for sticking with me this far.  
_


	9. Interlude & Travel Plans

**Dehumanization**

_Interlude_

Lieutenant Rodyle stood on the raised platform of the gallows, just high enough to see over the heads of his troops and survey the landscape before him. Even on the cusp of an impressively efficient tactical success, he was in a foul mood, and his jaunty, rose-coloured spectacles did nothing improve his perspective. He was not pleased about his latest mission, a tedious game of hide-and-seek that he considered a waste of time and resources. He suspected that Kvar had sent him here in a calculated effort to step on his toes. There was a rumour that Virgil would be touring the Asgard Ranch soon, and Kvar undoubtedly coveted the other Grand Cardinal's attention.

At Rodyle's behest, a small company of twelve Desian foot-soldiers had established a blockade in front Luin's western border, sealing the bridge to the city. In an ordinary raid, the position would not hold much advantage. There was nothing to prevent the townspeople from evacuating Luin and retaliating from the outside. But today was hardly an ordinary day, and Rodyle's troops had a motley collection of human children roped together in the center of their camp. There would be no derring-do on the part of the inferior beings.

Although the blockade was mostly for show, Rodyle had taken certain precautions in choosing the bridge. The narrow, bottle-necked passage would limit the number of humans who could approach at one time, and with sandbags piled up on Desians' side of the canal, the arrangement also favoured the use of magic and projectile weapons. It was probably a bit much, just to bring in one inferior being, but Rodyle preferred to be meticulous in everything he did.

By the time Rodyle's men had finished setting the stage, the citizens of Luin had already formed a crowd around the mouth of the bridge. Some of them were carrying crude weapons, like knives and farming tools, but their behaviour remained restrained. No one would risk the children. It was clear that they had come to negotiate, not to fight.

Strangely, however, Rodyle's target was nowhere to be seen. At the head of the assembly, there emerged, instead, a frail young woman with a short, boyish haircut. Despite her thin frame all of the humans seemed to be looking to her for direction.

Her appearance also caused agitation amongst Rodyle's troops. With bright, red handprints streaked down the front of her white dress, she looked like horror story brought out into the sunlight. Rodyle was reminded of the cursed bride of Asgard.

_Yes, _he found himself thinking, _the walking dead. _The irony would not occur to him until later, when it was too late to use the line as a pun.

Spotting the children, the small woman began to slow her pace. Her face grew pale around the edges, and for a moment her eyes took on a vacant, unfocused quality, as if she were watching something no one else could see. It was fascinating to watch, but did not inspire much confidence in her state of mind. Rodyle did not expect negotiations to go as smoothly as he had hoped.

Wherever the woman's thoughts had taken her, she soon roused herself, shook her head, and stepped boldly onto the bridge.

"Let the kids go," she said, her voice strangely loud. The volume of it did not match her tiny frame. "I'm the one you want."

Rodyle blinked once, and then again, twice. Confused by this new development, he struggled to wind his thoughts back, to recall the exact moment when he had issued the terms of the hostages' release.

He had definitely referred to Kratos Aurion by name. He must have. He was sure of it.

"Who are you?" he demanded, angrily.

The woman looked surprised, and perhaps even a little bit put out.

"What do you mean? I'm Anna Irving," she told him, as Rodyle made a habit of knowing humans by name. When the Desian lieutenant showed no signs of being impressed, she added, "You know? 'A012?'"

Rodyle snorted. A production unit – that explained it. Somewhere along the line, the message had obviously become garbled and the wrong wanted criminal had come forth – if this arrogant human could even be described in such a way. Rodyle could not image Kvar sending an entire company of Desians to retrieve one escaped prisoner.

"Listen," said the human, thumping the palm of her hand against her chest for emphasis. "If you don't let those kids go, I'll destroy the Angelus project. I-I'll destroy it and then I'll come after you!"

Rodyle looked her up and down, his generous eyebrows rising steadily with each word out of her mouth. He had never heard of this "Angelus Project" before, and he was beginning to suspect that this woman was having him on. Perhaps she was just trying to buy time – it was possible that Kratos Aurion had already fled the city… although the behaviour did not match the profile that had been handed down to him. He had made to understand that he was some sort of human sympathizer.

The lieutenant could only conclude that the information Kvar had given him was bad. It was all very disheartening.

"I'm terrified, I assure you." Rodyle spat the words, unable to muster up his usual theatricality. Reminding himself of the ultimatum that he had set for the townsfolk, he directed his attention to the officers blockading the bridge, searching for a face – or rather, a nose and mouth underneath a thick visor – he recognized. He had only been promoted recently, but he wanted to seem personable. It would not do to refer to anyone as, 'You there.'

Fortunately, there was one woman among them that would have known anywhere, easily identified by the mess of green curls peeking out from beneath the neck-plate of her helmet. Remembering _her_ name was easy. She was a young recruit, but she was also a mean, trashy-looking bitch, and she was more than tough enough to hold the frontline with any of his men. Today, her lips were thick with paint, the colour of rich plum. Even in uniform, she managed to maintain a perpetually costumed appearance.

"Pronyma," he called, pleased with himself for remembering, "if you would be so kind?"

Pronyma tilted her head towards one of the other men, and Rodyle thought he could see her eyes roll at him through the metal grate of her visor, but her answering voice was anything but hostile.

"With _pleasure_, sir," she drawled, in what was obviously meant to be a seductive manner. This time, Rodyle resisted the urge to roll _his _eyes. He was old enough to know a ploy for his favour when he heard one, but her efforts were pointless. No matter what she tried, Pronyma would never amount to anything.

Slinging her standard-issue spear over one shoulder, the young recruit sauntered onto the bridge. The girl in the bloodied dress began to back up slowly, one hand reaching to tug at her collar.

"She's going for a weapon!" somebody shouted, sending a clamour through Rodyle's men, "Pronyma!"

But Pronyma had already seen it, and she was in motion. Her spear flashed through the air in a silver arc, and Anna stumbled clumsily out of the way, falling against the rail of the bridge. The area was narrow and enclosed, but Pronyma changed tactics quickly, aiming a series of quick stabs in Anna's direction that sent the human woman into a backwards scramble.

"Did you need her for anything?" Pronyma called back over her shoulder, easing off her assault.

Rodyle did not think that the human had a weapon, but he did not particularly care if the girl lived or died either, and he said so. "It doesn't matter. As long as she's out of the way." In a much louder voice he addressed the humans on the opposite side of the riverbank, "She is not the one we're looking for. But I am in a generous mood, so I will allow you to _choose_ which of these children will be the first—

"No," Anna's protest startled everyone, "no, I _am _the one you're looking for! You _said _you were going to make a deal!"

"I asked for Kratos Aurion," said Rodyle, "I will not negotiate with a production unit!"

Something flashed in Anna's eyes – recognition, perhaps – but Rodyle would never find out. Pronyma chose that moment to step in front of the human woman, swiping at her with her blade, and effectively blocking Anna from Rodyle's sight. He saw Pronyma's blade fall, and then she let out a grunt of surprise.

Rodyle's first assumption was that she had managed to get her weapon stuck. It was a rookie mistake, one that would not have surprised him, coming from her. However, it quickly became evident that something was seriously wrong. A ripple of shock and confusion travelled through the officers in the blockade, and then Pronyma's body jerked violently to the side, soaring over the rail of the bridge like a weightless ragdoll.

Rodyle jerked his attention back at the bridge just in time to catch a glimpse of the human woman in the white dress. She was poised like a stickball player who had just scored a homerun, holding Pronyma's spear upside down with the handle pointing straight up into the air. Her hands gripped the top of the shaft, mere inches away from the base of the blade. She must have caught it somehow, and then wrestled the spear out of Pronyma's hold.

_Impossible,_ thought Rodyle, as his men surged onto the bridge in a mad scramble. _She's too small._

But then the lieutenant remembered what the girl had called herself, and everything fell into place. He thought of the Chosen that he had encountered in another human lifetime, and the unimaginable strength that that man had possessed. The Angelus Project. Angels. It all came together at once.

But there was no time to speculate on Kvar's activities. The human woman was hammering her way through the melee with the wrong end of the spear, gracelessly handling her weapon as if it were a club. Amazingly, she seemed to be making headway; she had managed to smash her way through the blockade.

"The hostages!" Rodyle snarled, managing to keep his wits about him. "Up here! Bring them where the humans will see!"

His second lieutenant heard the order and rushed to follow it, but before he could reach the children a flash of green mana struck him from behind, knocking the ill-fated man clean off his feet. A second flash of green, and two of the officers assigned to oversee the children went down.

Rodyle did not know how many enemies he now faced, but there were spell-casters working against him, and he knew that he had lost his advantage. But he remembered Virgil, and hardened his resolve.

"All units prepare to clear!" he ordered savagely, as chaos raged around him. "All units-

A surge of foreign mana filled the air around him, and fierce heat radiated through the soles of his boots. It was the only the warning that Rodyle had before the gallows erupted in a huge explosion of flame and splintered wood. He managed to throw himself clear of the blast, only to be bowled over by one of his own men.

Rodyle knew nothing good was going to come of his next report. For the hundredth time that day, he cursed Kvar's name. Someday, he promised himself, he _would _dance on the vile man's grave.

* * *

_End Interlude_

* * *

Anna sat on the bank of the river, spear still clutched in both hands, watching as the townspeople worked to put out the last of the blaze that had consumed the gallows. The Desians had abandoned the blockade to defend their commander, but the victory seemed hollow somehow, unsatisfying. The scene brought up memories that Anna thought she had buried a long time ago, casting them in a whole new light for her consideration. She found that she did not like herself very much in those memories.

No one had spoken to her, yet, and it was no wonder. Anna had frightened_ herself_ with the feats of strength that she had managed over the course of the day, so she could hardly blame them for being intimidated. She thought they might be angry, too. By revealing herself, Anna had put the entire city in peril, and more importantly, she had endangered their children. She had forgotten everything but her own safety in the heat of the moment.

A shadow fell across the ground, and Anna tilted her head upwards to see Kratos Aurion leaning over her. He was looking at her in that intense, super-concentrated way of his, but the attention didn't intimidate her the way it would have before.

"You know," he said, gesturing towards her spear, with a serious expression, "That would probably work better if you held it right way up."

"Worked pretty well for me," she said, but offered him a faint smiled, to let him know that she wasn't offended by the remark.

"I saw. That was an impressive show of strength."

Anna didn't feel particularly proud, so she chose to ignore the compliment.

"Thank you for the help before. With the spells and stuff."

She hadn't actually seen Kratos on the battlefield, but she had been certain that it was him. Kratos confirmed her suspicions when he looked around quickly, to confirm that no one had overheard their discussion.

"I would appreciate it if you did not mention that to anyone." There was no one nearby, but Kratos kept his voice low, as if he suspected that someone might be eavesdropping. "I prefer to keep a low profile."

Anna could not resist a wry smile, a little less genuine than the last one had been. "Yeah," she said, "I get that."

Kratos frowned, considering something. "I should probably mention that to that man in the basement, as well."

"Dr. Mueller?" Anna asked, remembering all at once. "That's right! You must have used healing arts again. I'm surprised that you managed to cast, after what happened. I thought you were dead."

It was Kratos' turn to smile, although it was barely perceptible. "I don't die as easily as most people."

"I'm glad," said Anna, meaning it. The word "half-elf" flashed warningly through her mind, but the thought was not as alarming as it had been days before.

If Kratos had noticed her discomfort, he did not show it. Instead he moved around to settle down beside her, careful to leave a safe distance between them. He didn't say anything, and Anna wasn't sure how to broach the silence, so she sat next to him quietly and watched the people milling around on the opposite shore.

Most of the children that had been held before had already cleared off, but there was still one little boy left in the crowd. He was a bit older than the others had been, and he was up on his feet, hauling sandbags over to the fire right alongside the adults. Watching him made Anna feel slightly inadequate, so she turned to Kratos instead.

His attention was fixed on the wreckage outside town, and Anna took the opportunity to study him up close. Crouched next to her, hand on the hilt of his sword, he looked like a soldier on watch, one who expected danger at any moment. She wondered if he ever rested, and the thought brought her a unexpected sense of kinship with him. She never felt entirely at ease with her surroundings either.

"I'm sorry about what happened before, in the basement," she said. It didn't feel like the appropriate thing to say to someone she had almost killed, but she couldn't think of anything better. "It was an accident. You surprised me."

"You surprised me as well. It will not happen a second time." The certainty in his voice, along with his complete and utter dismissal of the whole incident, came as an overwhelming relief. Anna thought that would be the end of it, but Kratos turned to look at her again, his gaze thoughtful. "Actually, I wanted to ask you about that."

Anna pulled her spear closer to her body, hugging her knees with her arms. "I don't know what to tell you. I was completely normal one minute and then… and then it just happened. I think my exsphere had something to do with it."

"Yes. It seems obvious now," Kratos frowned slightly, as if remembering something. "I believe that your exsphere became active in response to the stress you have been subjected to in recent days. If I'm right, then the Angelus Project is special; it will make you much stronger than an ordinary exsphere could, even without a key crest. Left unchecked, however, it will continue to feed off of your life energy, and your body will burn out."

"Yeah," said Anna. She didn't like where the conversation was going. Kratos was beginning to trespass on territory that she dared not visit herself. "I know. I saw the file. I didn't understand much of it, but I figured out that I don't have much time left."

"That… may not be entirely true."

Anna looked up again, searching Kratos' expression, but his frown had disappeared, and his face was blank again, as usual. It was strange how he could carry on a conversation with almost no tone of voice or body language to colour his tone.

"In recent months, you have been living in relative comfort. You have been eating properly and exercising regularly, and you have been surrounded by people you trust. During that time, the toll that the exsphere would ordinarily inflict upon your body should have been significantly reduced. If you continued to live peacefully, you could live much longer than Kvar predicted."

"Not much chance of that," said Anna. She winced at the flatness of her own voice. She had not meant to sound so ungrateful.

"I know," Kratos nodded, unperturbed. "Now that Kvar knows where you are, remaining here would put both you and the townspeople at risk."

He was right, of course, but Anna was a bit surprised by Kratos' response. She hadn't been thinking about it that way. Her mind had been preoccupied with her newfound strength, and how little control she had over it. She had nearly killed Kratos before, and he was a warrior. There was no telling what might happen if she lost control again in the presence of an ordinary citizen or – heaven forbid – a child. The thought that the Desians would be after her came only as an afterthought.

"I suppose so," she said.

"Perhaps we can help each other," Kratos plunged on, oblivious to Anna's secret thoughts. "You need a key crest, and I may be able to assist you in obtaining one."

Anna could not hide her surprise.

"You would do that? Why?"

"We share the same enemy, and I believe that your physical strength would be an asset on my journey," he told her cryptically. "For some time, I have been searching for someone capable of matching my strength. Someone of your… competence. If you are willing to accompany me on my way, I will help you search for a key crest."

Anna didn't like the look that Kratos was giving her. It was a little bit too interested – at least given what Anna had come to expect of the man. The attention stirred up an old pride that had been dormant since her gambling days, and it burst out of her, just as it had so often back then.

"I'm not going to have sex with you or anything, if that's what you're hinting at."

Kratos did not seem to think that her outburst merited a response. Anna hadn't expected much of a reaction, but the stoic man looked so utterly unimpressed by her suggestion that she regretted it immediately.

"Where are you going on this journey?" she said, hoping to change the subject, "What do you plan to do, and where do I fit into all this."

"For now, I plan to gain access to the library in the Tower of Mana. I have my own reasons for going, but we may also find information regarding the location of Moria, the home of the dwarves."

It was hard to think when the man was looking at her so hard, but Anna could tell that he was sidestepping her question. "What about after?" she asked. "What do you think you're going to learn in the Tower?"

Kratos only shook his head. "For now, that's all I can tell you."

Anna hated how evasive he was being. She still had very little idea of who he was and what he wanted, and the prospect of traveling alone with him was terrifying. But she wanted to live. She couldn't just walk away from what he was offering

"Anna," he said. "Do you want to come with me, or not?"

"Yes." The real answer was much more complicated than that, a huge jumble of contradictions, but Anna could not put those feelings into words, and she had no desire to share them with a stranger.

They made plans to meet again, later that evening. Kratos had his own business to attend to, and Anna wanted time to herself. She didn't know what she was going to tell her parents.

It was only much later, when the two of them had gone their separate ways, that Anna caught a glimpse of herself in one of the shop windows on the way home and remembered what she looked like. Her heart sank. Her hair was a mess, her dress was smeared with blood, and her body was as frail and skeletal as ever. It was no wonder Kratos had barely reacted to the mention of sex, earlier. There was no way any man in his right mind would want to have sex with _her._

_That's a good thing, _Anna told herself. _It will be safer this way._

The thought was less comforting than it should have been.

* * *

_AN: I am so tired of listening to my co-workers complain about how "fat" they are. Newsflash, ladies: concave chests are not very sexy. Stop talking to me about your calorie intake._

_*Ahem* _

_I'm not sure how I'm doing with my time line here. I know Rodyle becomes a Grand Cardinal at least 14 years prior to the game, but I don't know about earlier, or what Pronyma's history is supposed to be. Any information you can give me would be greatly appreciated._


	10. Secrets & Another Interlude

**First thing's first: I'm sorry for the hiatus. That was a long time, even for me. Some pretty big changes have been happening in my life, recently, and fanfiction had to go on the backburner for a while.**

**That having been said, I hope you enjoy this next chapter!**

**Dehumanization**

Wendy held Anna in a tight embrace, as if she meant to make her daughter a part of her again; push her back into the womb where she would finally be safe again, once and for all. Anna stayed still, and bit her lip.

Ever since the Ranch, Anna found that physical contact was taxing. And the problem seemed to be getting progressively worse, instead of better. Sometimes – particularly in cases where she was caught off guard – she had bad reactions. With her exsphere amplifying her strength, Anna felt like metal spring trap, a danger to everyone around her.

And because of the exsphere, Anna resisted her first instinct, the urge to hug her mother right back, and merely placed her hands upon the other woman's back as delicately as she possibly could.

They stayed like that for a long time, standing together in the shade of the Irving family's front porch. Anna looked out on her father's carefully tended garden, and hoped that it would not be neglected in the time to come.

"Are you _sure_ that this is what you want?" Wendy Irving asked, for what seemed like the millionth time. "Your father and I will find some other way…"

"I'll regret it forever if I don't try," Anna told her. Her parents had enough problems to worry about, without having to watch their only daughter wither away and die. "You know me. My mind's made up."

"But that man-"

"Mum, I told you, that was a misunderstanding. It'll be fine, _I promise._"

Despite her words, Anna couldn't help but steal a nervous glance towards the front door. _What was taking them so long?_

Kratos had arrived at her house at the peak of dawn, and he appeared to be empty handed, much to Anna's surprise. He did not look like a man prepared to travel.

But as it turned out, Kratos had everything he needed. He carried it in a "wing pack," a strange device that he claimed to have stolen from a Desian scout. A quick demonstration with the kitchen table revealed that there was more than enough space inside to hold Anna's luggage as well.

Far from being pleased, the young woman found the whole thing disturbing to watch. It was all too convenient. There was just no way a mere _human _could have picked up such a mundane-looking pouch and divined its purpose. Feeling light-headed, Anna had excused herself while Kratos carefully organized the contents of his pack for easy access later. Her mother had followed her outside in short order.

Her father, on the other side, was still in there, probably driving Kratos half-mad with demands for a repeat performance.

Anna was beginning to adjust to the idea of having Kratos as an ally, but she was starting to worry about letting him out of her sight. He might say something, without meaning to, without knowing that it was supposed to be a secret. There were still things her parents did not know about the Human Ranch, things that she desperately, desperately did not want them to hear.

Kratos had stolen important documents concerning the Angelus project from Kvar – he was probably the only person outside the Ranch with any idea of how _bad_ it had been. The experiments, the surgeries… the things she had done to stay alive for all that time. He might know things about her that she didn't know herself.

Anna pushed this thought back, and burrowed her face in the fabric of her mother's blouse. The sharp, lemony scent of her mother's laundry soap helped to clear her mind.

She thought, '_This could be the last time that we're together like this. This time I won't forget,_'and then her mother released her, and the front door opened, and out came Anna's father, with Kratos only a few steps behind.

Kratos' face was blank; a perfect tabula-rasa that did not betray even the slightest hint of an emotion. In a weird, backwards sort of way, it made Anna think there was probably something bothering him. It seemed to her that his expression was a little _too_ bland, as if he was trying to hide something, trying to force a mask over a real and powerful emotion.

Another thing that seemed out of place was how _tidy_ Kratos looked.

Anna's father's, for his part, wasn't doing such a good job of hiding his feelings.

"Have you _seen_ what this 'wing-pack' contraption can do, Anna?" his voice was gushing with enthusiasm, but he couldn't quite fake a smile. "It's absolutely amazing. You shouldn't have bothered packing your clothes; we just threw your whole chest of drawers _right in_!"

"That's great," Anna responded dutifully.

"Oh, and Anna," her mother remembered, bravely mustering up a smile, "Do stop by the schoolhouse on your way out of town. I heard the children have something they want to give you."

Anna nodded, and the lie rolled off her tongue automatically, with no real throught. "Sure. I'll be sure to do that."

Her father put a hand on Wendy's shoulder, but he turned to look at Anna.

"I'm going to miss you, Lady," he said, simply. He didn't make a move to draw any closer to her. They'd already said their goodbyes in privacy.

"I know," she said. "But I'm going to be fine," she resisted the urge to question whether or not he could say the same.

"I just wish you had a place to come back to, when all of this is over."

Her father was referring to his own departure preparations. While he and Wendy had not been banned from city in any official capacity, the mayor of Luin had strongly urged them to relocate, for the safety of all parties involved. Now that the Desians knew about Anna's stay in the city, anyone who associated with her was a target for the Desians. Her family couldn't stay in their home, and they _wouldn't _accept shelter from another citizen in town.

"I'll find you," she promised, with more certainty in her voice than she felt in her heart. "You said you're going to Palmacosta, right?"

"Maybe," her father said. "But it's a big city, and we're trying to disappear. We might be forced to change our plans."

"I'll figure something out," Anna told him.

Her father gave her a funny smile.

"You will," he said, as if amused. He then turned to face Kratos, offering his hand, politely. "And you take care of my little girl, understand?"

"Yes," said Kratos, simply. And then he didn't do anything. He just stared at Reginald, unmoving, not seeming to notice the hand extended between them. To anyone watching the family on the porch at that exact moment, they must have looked like actors in some failed play, waiting for Kratos to act on his cue.

Anna was about to cut in, to break the awkward silence, when Kratos finally said, "Yes," a second time, and then shifted into motion, gradually, like an old machine creaking to life after years of disuse.

The handshake was awkward after the delay, but Reginald politely pretended not to notice.

Kratos looked at Anna, as if he were checking for something, and then turned his attention back to her parents.

"I wouldn't worry. She's very strong," he reminded them, simply.

And for the first time, Anna started to feel like maybe – just maybe – she might make it through this.

* * *

_-Interlude-_

_

* * *

_

Before they could leave Luin, of course, Kratos and Anna both knew they would need the key to the Tower of Mana.

After a brief discussion, Kratos allowed Anna to lead the way through town, choosing to follow a few steps behind her. She seemed to find this disconcerting at first, glancing back on occasion to confirm that he was still there, but she did not raise any objections, and Kratos took this to mean that she was comfortable with the arrangement.

In any case, it was the most practical way of doing things. Kratos would be able to see any one who approached her, and intervene, if necessary. Even humans would see the Angelus project as a valuable prize; something they could use to barter with the enemy. Kratos had met enough war profiteers in his time to know that there would always be _somebody_ willing to do it.

Anna had abandoned her usual manner of dress in favour of something much more practical; a pair of soft breeches and a white blouse, cinched around her waist with a length red cloth. The garments were loose, and obviously second-hand. With her short hair and gangly limbs, she might have taken on a boyish appearance, but the way she carried herself, the way she _moved, _easily compensated for that.

Kratos was not particularly familiar with the layout of Luin, but it quickly became apparent that the woman, Anna, was leading him towards the town's temple. Odd, considering the promise that she had made to her mother mere minutes ago.

"If you would like to stop by the schoolhouse, it isn't a problem," he said, gently probing for insight into her actions. "I still have business to attend to and I can meet you there when I'm finished."

"It's no big deal," she told him, rolling her shoulders, not turning around. "Let's just take care of your key problem and then head out. Noishe is waiting, and I don't think we should leave him alone for too long. The people here… they might not take too kindly to him, you know?"

Her attempts at distraction did nothing to hide her unease. Kratos had noticed a consistent discrepancy between her words and her actions, and it worried him. Was Anna too unreliable for his purposes? He could hardly leave the fate of the world in the hands one someone who couldn't keep a simple promise.

"Noishe won't mind," he informed her, wishing that he were more adept at interpreting the behaviour of his own species. Had time really changed humans so much?

He saw the woman in front of him grow tense, when she looked back at him, she was wearing a pinched, irritated expression.

"I just don't want to go," she said. "Can we drop this?"

Even after months on the surface, Kratos still found it strange to watch the way that human emotions danced across people's faces, uncontained. He knew, instinctively, that he had struck close to some black secret that she kept buried and out of sight.

He wanted to dig deeper, of course. It was the logical thing to do. Anna was the new lynchpin in all of his plans, and he needed to be sure that he was putting his faith in the right place.

"Very well," he said, instead.

Anna smiled slightly, relieved, or perhaps grateful, that Kratos had decided to drop the subject.

For a time, they continued down the cobbled streets in relative silence. The noise of city life seemed to quell when Anna drew near. The townspeople were certainly afraid to draw her attention. No surprise, given her stunning display of strength, before. It did not help that she had chosen to carry the Desian spear from the night before on her person, rather than stowing it in the wing pack, as Kratos had suggested. The handle looked cartoonishly large, framed in the young woman's delicate looking hands. With the opposite pole balanced casually upon one angular shoulder, and the spear's hefty blade jutting out behind her, Anna looked… impossible. Even Kratos half-expected her to topple over backwards at any moment.

Kratos was quite accustomed to intimidating others, but Anna did not seem to have any such experience. He could see the tension building in her neck and shoulders each time a crowd suddenly dispersed at her approach. But she bore it quietly, with dignity. As well deserved as it might be, Kratos did not sense any resentment in her gaze when it fell upon the people.

But when she glanced back at him again, he saw something else in her expression; a loneliness that stirred up ancient dream-like memories.

"You know, it might be a good idea if I talk to Father Richard, alone," she said, over her shoulder. "I mean, he's not going to part with the Key to the Tower very easily, especially right now, with the Chosen just starting another pilgrimage, and all. But if I were to talk to him, maybe –"

"That won't be necessary," Kratos reassured her. "As a matter of fact, I would prefer to speak to him privately, myself."

Anna frowned. "Why?" she asked, genuinely confused. Suspicion bloomed behind her eyes, sudden and swift. "You don't even know him. Why would he listen to you?"

"Anna," he said, wishing that he did not sound so much like someone trying to sooth a nervous animal, "when you agreed to travel with me-"

"_No,"_ said Anna suddenly, cutting across him. She halted in the middle of the road, and turned to face him, her free hand fisted tightly in front of her chest. "Look, I'll help you get to the tower, and I'll help you fight the Desians, or whatever it is you're doing. But _don't _ask me to just – just trust you – take your word at face value. I barely even know you."

Kratos found his eyes drawn to her thin, boney wrists. _'No,' _he thought, _'I wouldn't ask that of you.'_

Anna was picking up steam, clearly unloading something that had been on her chest for some time. "Look. We're talking about a sacred artefact, here. We both know that you can't just walk in, ask for it _nicely, _and expect him to just hand it over to you. What are you really planning?"

Kratos paused, more bemused than anything else. "I'm not going to take the key by force, if that's what you mean."

He wished that he had taken care of this earlier. But the night before there had been no hope of catching the holy man alone, not with so many frightened civilians racing in an out of the temple. And he'd spent most of his time with Noishe, trying to compose a list of things he would need, now that he had to accommodate a human during his travels.

Anna's expression remained terse, untrusting.

"How long are you going to be?" she asked.

"Five, maybe ten minutes," he answered readily. _Provided everything goes according to plan._

"And if I check up on Father Richard afterwards, he'll be just fine?"

"He will not come to harm with me," Kratos reassured her.

"Good," said Anna, clearly believing that she had the upper hand, "Because if I find out you stepped out of line, I'll pitch you straight through a window. You know I can."

Privately, Kratos disagreed with her, but he nodded his head gravely, anyways. He would reveal his own strength, in time, but for now it seemed more advantageous to allow Anna to believe that her exsphere's power was unrivalled. Even if Kratos sometimes forgot the most basic things that ordinary people needed to survive, he still understood the more abstract of human necessities. Anna required a sense of control over her own life as surely as she needed food or shelter, and Kratos needed to keep her happy if he expected to secure her cooperation.

"Five minutes," he promised.

The chapel only contained a few people in the middle of the day. After Anna pointed him in the right direction, he left her to pace the pews, and let himself into Father Richard's office.

The priest was a young man, younger than Kratos had expected anyways, and he jumped slightly when Kratos came in. He seemed to be caught up in a weighty volume of text, and was obviously displeased by the interruption.

"May I help you?" the man ground out, clearly not in the mood to do any such thing.

The clergy had always amazed Kratos. This man wasn't even on Cruxis's radar, and yet here he was, keeping the faith, holding up the very foundations of the whole institution. How could someone call themselves a religious authority, and yet remain so completely and utterly _oblivious _to the true nature of the world? Didn't he sense something wrong? Didn't he want to _do_ something about it?

Kratos thought suddenly of Remiel, another angel, and all his posturing. There was a particular smile that he put on, when he was trying to look benevolent, a slightly twisted, shit-eating grin. Kratos has always found it revolting, but he had pushed it down, like so many other things…

The thought made him feel foul for what he was about to do, but that didn't stop him from advancing towards the young priest, slamming his hands down on the table top and looking straight into his eyes.

"Don't make a sound," he commanded, keeping his voice low.

The clergyman was clearly outraged, but any protest he might have made melted away when Kratos exhaled, letting the mana from his body spread out behind him and form shining wings. The angel frowned slightly at the sharp, chiming sound that rang out as pure mana sliced through the air. Hopefully Anna hadn't heard that.

Father Richard made to get out of his chair, but his legs gave out half-way through the motion and the poor man merely collapsed to his knees. Kratos didn't wait for the other man to recover from the shock – in fact, he used it to his advantage, closing in on the bewildered man to tower over him.

"The time has come," he announced dredging up every ounce of imperiousness that he possessed. "Are you prepared?"

The man at Kratos' feet swallowed, looking up at Kratos with obvious uncertainty. How strange, that a religious man would not anticipate this very moment.

Poor child. He was just so _young_.

"Wh- what do you want me to do?"

Kratos looked down at him.

"I need something from you."

* * *

**AN: Every time Kratos draws his wings, all I can think is "WHAT YOU'RE A FAIRY?" **

**Somewhere on the internet there is a fancomic about this and I haven't seen it since... highschool. (Dear god, have I been in this fandom that long?)  
**

**On a serious note, please forgive (and correct!) any errors I may have made in referring to Richard's station in this chapter. I'm not really clear on the differences between pastors and priests and whatnot, and I may have used a lot of terms for various members of the clergy interchangeably. **


	11. Learning curve

**Dehumanization**

The road to the Tower of Mana was long, unmarked, and very much untamed, for although it was widely regarded as one of Sylvarant's most sacred sites, the Tower did not attract many visitors. Anna had only ever seen it from a distance before; a dark turret just tall enough to peek overtop of the mountain range north of Luin.

Despite the tower's unparalleled height, in a way it was still overshadowed by the Asgard Human Ranch. Located less than a day's march to the east, the Desian base deterred even the most devout of Martel's followers from their pilgrimages. Of the courageous few who ventured into enemy territory, even fewer returned.

Needless to say, going back there was something that Anna wanted to avoid.

Fortunately, Kratos seemed to share her concerns, and he had suggested an alternative route to their destination. Their path would lead them North, along the west side of the mountain range. There, he assured her, they could pass through the mountains. Anna had her doubts.

"I don't know," she offered her opinion. "I think I would have heard about a mountain pass, if there was one."

"Don't worry," Kratos assured her. "I'm quite familiar with the route."

"You go to the Tower of Mana often, then?"

"I've been more than once."

Anna got the feeling that Kratos was keeping something from her.

"Honestly? What for?"

"On a pilgrimage. Isn't that why most people go?"

It was hard to picture Kratos as a man of religion, especially after seeing him use magic. Martel's teachings foretold the destruction of all Desians. There were different interpretations floating around about what exactly that meant, but popular opinion was that all of the other half-elves in the world would be wiped out alongside them.

Why would anyone seek out their own death?

"You… don't really believe any of that, do you?" asked Anna. She wondered if Kratos used religion as a cover, to better pass as an ordinary human.

If Anna was right, Kratos gave no sign of it. Instead, he only shrugged.

"The Tower of Salvation has appeared in the past. You can't deny that the stories are based on fact."

"I remember it," said Anna. She had seen the Tower appear in the sky once in her life time, back in the early years of her childhood. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that it had ever really happened. "I saw it myself. And then I saw it disappear again. Nothing changed. I know the Journey of Regeneration is real, I just… I don't know. Do you really want it to happen?"

The red-haired man only looked at her askance. He did not seem shocked or horrified by her suggestion, but he didn't seem to approve of it either. Instead, he side-stepped her questions with a question of his own.

"Don't you?" he asked. "A world without half-elves – isn't that what most people believe?"

"Hmm," Anna made a neutral sound, taking a page out of her companion's book instead of pursuing the conversation any further. She had a feeling that he could guess her answer anyways. Even if she couldn't find it in her heart to believe in the Chosen One, she still yearned for the same thing as most humans: an end to the Desians, and all of their brethren.

"I thought so," said Kratos. That would be the last thing he said to her for a long time.

And so their journey began.

* * *

Anna wasn't a particularly seasoned traveler, so she expected Kratos to set the pace of their journey. But when her new companion did not suggest a stop for lunch, or even a rest, until late into the afternoon, it became apparent that she was going to have to take matters into her own hands or simply resign herself to walking forever and ever, on into the night.

"You know," she said, breaking the silence for the first time since morning, "I think your dog's limp is getting worse."

Kratos slowed slightly, casting a quick glance at Noishe before he finally turned, regarding her with his usual intensity, one eyebrow raised in question.

"He seems to be holding up, well enough."

"Well, I was just thinking… we could stop for a bit?"

"For…?"

Anna's first instinct was to back down, but she fought it off, reminding herself that Kratos didn't pose a threat anymore. She _could_ ask for things – even take them, if she so pleased. She had the strength of the Angelus project at her disposal, after all.

"I'd like a rest," she said. "I'm tired."

Noishe sat down and _wuffed_, drawing the attention of his master. The look that passed between the two of them might have been a significant one, but it was probably just Anna's imagination that made it seem so.

"Yes. Of course," Kratos inclined his head to her, and said no more.

Despite her reservations about using Desian technology, Anna had to admit that Kratos's wing pack truly was a marvelous invention. A bit of digging around revealed that the man had managed to stash an entire table in there, along with a host of other supplies they might need for cooking and cleaning, all stowed in boxes and bags for easy access. Kratos helped her to extract the tools that she needed, and then turned his attention on Noishe, fussing over the burs that had gathered on the animal's legs. For someone who showed such disregard for other people, he certainly seemed fond of his peculiar pet.

Anna wasn't much of a cook and she didn't have the energy for anything fancy, so she settled on making sandwiches for the both of them with the supplies her mother had sent along. They might as well use up all the vegetables while they were still fresh.

"Here," she said, gesturing for Kratos to take his own plate.

The man regarded her offering strangely for a moment and Anna wondered if perhaps she should have left him to make his own food. After all, she didn't really know what he liked. In the end, though, Kratos accepted the plate without protesting. He even went so far as to add a softly worded, "Thank you."

Anna watched him take his first bite, slowly, tentatively. His eyelids fluttered closed, and she heard him sigh deeply.

"Um," watching him made the woman felt strangely ill at ease. "Is it alright?"

"Mmm?" Kratos came back to her slowly, as if rousing from a deep sleep. "Yes, yes it's… It has just been some time since I've eaten. A sandwich, that is."

"Oh," said Anna. "Right."

Feeling ignored, Noishe got up from his spot on the ground and rested his chin on Kratos's lap, letting out a pitiful whine. To Anna's horror, Kratos rewarded him with half of his meal. The man saw her expression, and tilted his head to look at her.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

Anna felt her jaw clench.

"If you didn't like it, you could have just said so," she tried to keep her tone even but the annoyance crept into it anyways, sharp and acidic.

Kratos just looked at his dog. His dog looked back. Anna got the distinct impression that they were, in fact, sharing a _look, _but of course it had to be her imagination acting up again.

* * *

From that point forward, Anna felt certain that it was her duty to keep her traveling companion on a sane schedule. She learned to assert herself quickly; Kratos did not seem to follow any of the natural rhythms that ordinary humans did, so it was up to her to remind him when it was time to eat, rest, or make camp for the night. The delays seemed to frustrate him, at first, but with a bit of time, he settled into the pattern with her, accepting, if not completely pleased by the arrangement.

Kratos didn't seem to _like _eating very much, at first, and after a few days, Anna started to realize that it didn't seem to have much to do with her cooking. It was actually a little scary how little he would eat in a day, if left to his own devices. Out of concern, Anna took it upon herself to make sure he ate at least two square meals in a day, if not the proper three.

After one particularly loud argument (at least on Anna's part) the strange man finally resigned himself to helping with the cooking, from time to time. To her enormous irritation, he turned out to be much better at it than she was, even if he did take a long time to get anything done. Sometimes he spent a long, long time just staring at a pot or a cutting board, his brow furrowed in concentration, as if trying to recall what that particular item was for. Then, all at once, he'd lurch into action, slowly and meticulously assembling some strange meal that Anna had never heard of before.

Kratos was, to say the least, a very strange traveling companion. He disturbed Anna a little bit. There was something ever so slightly wrong about the casual way that he described the finer points of taking a life, the way he always seemed to have some weapon or another in his hands, to be polished, or sharpened. But for all of his crazy, it was hard to deny that he made an excellent combat instructor.

Much to her surprise, in addition to lessons on how to use her spear, Kratos also insisted that she learn to use a blade like his own.

"I already have a weapon," she told him. "Why teach me to use yours?"

Kratos drew his sword, and held it out to her, hilt first.

"Why limit yourself?" he asked.

It was hard to argue with a point like that. The only problem was that Anna _liked _her spear. She didn't know how to use it properly, but it felt comfortable in her hands. She was proud to have taken it from the Desians, proud to hold it in her hands.

"I'm not _limiting _myself," she protested. "I'm just… wouldn't it be better to focus on learning how to use my own weapon, for now?"

Kratos seemed uncharacteristically frustrated by her refusal, and motioned for her to take the blade out of his hands.

"Knowing how to wield a sword would be useful," he argued. "You might need to use one, one day."

"Knowing how to use a spear would be useful _right now,_" Anna grumbled.

"Anna," he started, but the sentence didn't go anywhere. He tended to do that more and more often, lately. It was usually a sign that he was close to giving up on an argument.

Anna decided to give him a chance.

"Is there a particular reason you want me to learn this?" she asked him, finally, picking the conversation back up before it could die out, as usual.

"No," he relented. "Not particularly."

"You're awfully hung up on this," she pointed out.

"Anna," he said again. "Just… please?"

* * *

Rhythm became routine, and Anna became accustomed to the man's steady presence by her side, standing sentinel over her when she fell asleep, and waiting, with breakfast already prepared, when she came awake. Sometimes she worried about that – she'd never _seen_ him sleep – but he assured her that he was getting the rest he needed.

"Noishe will warn us of any danger," he told her, when she asked about watch duty. "You needn't concern yourself."

Anna let it go, then, but sometimes, she still lay awake late into the night, listening hard and wondering where in the darkness he was.


End file.
